


I Don't Need Blankies or Stuffies

by BuckysMyBoy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bed-Wetting, Blankets, Breakfast, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Coffee, Confused Bucky Barnes, Cooking, Couch Cuddles, Crying, Cute Bucky Barnes, Developing Relationship, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Bucky Barnes, Hot Chocolate, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Little Bucky, Mental Health Issues, Nicknames, Nightmares, No Sex, No Smut, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-sexual little space, Past Relationship(s), Past Torture, Past Violence, Protective Steve Rogers, Relationship Discussions, Self-Hatred, Sleepy Cuddles, Stuffed Toys, Thumb-sucking, Wetting, baby bucky, caregiver steve, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:33:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19041196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckysMyBoy/pseuds/BuckysMyBoy
Summary: Bucky Barnes isnota little. He is not vulnerable, dependent or babyish like that. He could take care of himself, he doesn't need a caregiver. He did not want to have stuffed animals or blankets or bottles or anything like that.But he did. And Steve knew that.





	1. Ignore It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so hey, new story. uh, i've started a new fic but i'm still working on another series. this one is gonna be long, i already have 16,000 words written and i'm not even done. if no one is gonna read this please tell me so i don't waste my time writing all this for no one.
> 
> *** THIS IS A NON-SEXUAL FIC I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH NO INAPPROPRIATE COMMENTS WILL BE TOLERATED ***

He laid completely still, shoulders drawing up towards his ears and his jaw tight, teeth clenched with frustration. He had only slept less than a few hours last night, nightmares waking him up at every better part of his sleep. His eyes would close, he would drift wearily in the middle of consciousness and a light sleep. He would be waiting for a nightmare to come and take hold of him once he drifted into any kind of sleep where he wasn't aware.

It would happen eventually, when he did let himself fall into a sleep, exhaustion pushing harder than fear. His eyes would relax from scrunched shut to a gentle close. His mind would get used to being asleep and his muscles would slowly start to become loose instead of drawn tight.

Then the images would flash in his head, terrifying things that have happened to him, things that he has done. Terrible, terrible things that he has done to others as the Winter Soldier, things that he should have realized were wrong and been able to stop himself from -

When his mind wasn't constantly pushing away the nightmares and he had his eyes closed, they would come at full force. His mind did its best to terrify him to the point that it would jerk him awake, body full of sweat, eyes with tears in them and more than half the time laying in a wet spot on his bed, his pants soaked with an accident. Like he was two years old. He would use his arm to wipe his forehead, ignoring its shaking and digging his palms into his eyes to stop the tears over the nightmare, and his accident that he didn't deserve to let fall.

He knew he should get out of bed and stop torturing himself with a tease of sleep and clean himself up. He couldn't bring himself to get up, his bed had been so warm and even if he couldn't fall asleep in it, he wanted to lay in it just for the warmth and comfort it provided. He heard the little voice in his head that said he didn't deserve any of that, that the people he hurt - hurt and killed he reminded himself, his shaking only got worse - didn't get warmth and comfort, so why should he? He did his best to ignore the uncomfortable wet spot in his pants, trying not to move around too much, so he didn't have to acknowledge it. Reminding himself that it was just another consequence of everything he did.

Tonight was bad, he could remember their faces, see their eyes full of fear, begging him to not make them take their last breath, he's pretty sure that's why he had an accident too. Normally, he couldn't remember their faces, he knew what they looked like but didn't remember. It was like humming a tune but not being able to remember the words.

Listening to music sounded nice right now, like it would be able to relax his muscles and calm his mind enough for him to sleep. He almost wanted to ask FRIDAY to play something, then thought better of it. Something in his head stopped him, it wasn't that little voice that reminds him of his mistakes. He was the one stopping himself, it was his own voice telling him he shouldn't indulge in the small things. He just needed to deal with the consequences from his actions.

His eyes dropped heavily again, and now he could hear a soundless song playing in his head that he craved to hear. He opened his mouth to ask FRIDAY to play a song, just something to distract him enough to fall asleep for a little bit, even though he knew FRIDAY would force him to clean up the mess of his accident before he went to sleep, he still wanted to ask.

He knew it would work, the music. It worked all the time in the forties, soft music playing on his and Steve's cheap radio. The sound of it was usually low and occasionally interrupted by static, but it worked. On nights he or Steve were kept awake from small things, he would turn the radio on and cuddle close to Steve. He didn't do that now though, he didn't let himself be cuddled, or held, or even touched most of the time.

And now he was thinking of Steve wrapped in his arms, usually shivering from the cold and cuddling into Bucky's body heat. He wondered what it would feel like to have Steve curled around his back, holding him instead of the other way around. When Steve was small he didn't really like to cuddle behind Bucky - he had before but he said he didn't like it, felt far away from Bucky because he was too small - so when they cuddled, Steve usually just turned so they were chest to chest and hugged Bucky close. Now though, now that Steve was bigger and taller than him, he wondered what it would feel like to be held like that. Cuddled and protected, warm arms around him and -

No, he reminded himself, muscles tensing again even though he hadn't realized they relaxed, he didn't get to want that. A sob welled up in his chest, rising into his throat and almost choking him before he could get himself under some kind of control, using his metal hand to pinch the skin on his flesh wrist and digging his teeth into his lip. It wasn't really control, it was just causing just enough pain to take over the hollow feeling in his chest. He knew it wasn't good to do that to himself but he would heal before morning, before anyone could notice it. Even if it was just a bruise, if he kept having them on his arm, someone - Steve - would probably notice. It worked well enough, the tears were stopped now and the hollow feeling in his chest was pretty much gone.

He looked at the finger shaped bruise on his arm from pinching himself, he did this before too. Before the war, before Hydra, before everything went to shit. Steve used to yell at him for it, when he would have fingerprint bruises on the underside if his wrist. Then Steve would hug him, and demand Bucky tell him next time he was hurting so much he had to do that to himself. Bucky would just shrug and say it wasn't a big deal, that Steve got worse bruises going out and fighting guys twice his size. Steve never answered him, just cuddled closer.

And goddamnit, he thought, kicking the gross blankets away from where they were kind of sticking to his legs from being wet and tangled around him from his constant tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable to sleep. He wasn't supposed to be thinking of being comforted, even if it was in the past, because then he would start to crave to actually be held. He didn't deserve that... but, fuck, he wanted that so bad. He wanted to be held, he wanted Steve to -

More tears sprang to his eyes, but he easily blinked them away. He tried to reason with himself, that Steve wouldn't want to cuddle with him anymore because of his nightmares. Steve wouldn't want to deal with those... and the accidents. Wetting the bed wasn't a rare thing for him anymore, ever since Hydra he woke up with a wet bed at least once a week.

"Mr. Barnes."

"What?" He bit out, trying to hide his embarrassment with anger.

"You seem to have had another accident, I would recommend -"

"Shut up." He swung his legs over the side of the bed to start cleaning himself and his bed up, then to get rid of the evidence of his accident. No way he wanted anyone to know about this.

He knew how to clean up after an accident by now, but now he had been thinking about Steve and how well the two of them had taken care of each other before the war and he wanted -

"Fuck," he cut his thoughts off with his angry word and threading his fingers in his hair, tugging hard, trying to pull the thoughts out if his head.

"Would you like me to alert Captain Rogers, you appear to be -"

"Shut up, FRIDAY." He pulled all the blankets off his bed, his accident hadn't left the two layers of blankets dry. He stared at them in distaste, he kept asking himself why, why, why did he have to do this. He couldn't just control his own fucking bladder? Then he had to remind himself that this was just part of his punishment for all the things he did.

"FRIDAY," His voice was much softer now, after yelling at the AI. He found himself feeling bad, even though he knew FRIDAY didn't have feelings to hurt.

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?" She asked, voice unaffected from his previous yelling.

"Is Steve awake?" He needed to go put these in the washing machine, but if Steve was awake, as he was most of the time, Bucky would have to go wash his sheets in his bathroom sink. Then, put them in the dryer in the morning when Steve wasn't there to question him why.

"Yes, would you like me to call him to -"

"No," he said quickly, panic in his voice at the thought of Steve figuring out he wet himself from a nightmare. "Lock my door please."

"Of course."

He threw his wet blankets behind him, on the floor by the bathroom. He threw the pillows near his nightstand, those having stayed dry, and pulled the fitted sheet off. It joined the pile by his bathroom door, along with his soaking pajama pants, boxers and shirt, which had also gotten wet. He felt another sob well up in his chest, but he just pinched his wrist over where the other bruise had begun to form, until it went away.

He grabbed the first pair of pajamas - a white shirt, and gray sweats - in the drawer, and a clean pair of boxers, before walking off to the bathroom to clean everything.

He ignored his tears as he kicked the pile of wet sheets into the bathroom, and set his dry pajamas on the sink. He showered quickly, not giving himself the chance to enjoy the way the warm water relaxed him. He didn't even wash his hair, just scrubbed his skin red to distract himself from the relaxing water. He was telling himself he didn't deserve to relax right now, he just needed to clean himself so he didn't smell.

Barely drying himself off, leaving water drops on his back and legs, he pulled the pajamas on. He cleaned the sheets as best he could in the sink, and threw them in the shower so they would get anything else wet while they started to dry.

He balled the towel that he used to dry himself off and shoved it in the sink, turning it around and around under the stream of water until it was wet. He squeezed it over the sink and grabbed a second dry towel from the closet. He used the wet towel to clean the mattress where wetness had soaked through the sheets.

"To avoid stains, I recommend that you clean it with -"

"Shut up."

He scrubbed the mattress with the wet towel for a long time, there were already a few stains on his bed, some of them fading away already and others a bit more recent ones that he hadn't hadn't cleaned well enough. He did his best not to think about what Steve would have to say about this. He imagined Steve calling him a baby, making fun of him, laughing and telling the rest of the Avengers that the feared Winter Soldier had wet the bed.

He scrubbed the bed harder when more tears came to his eyes, he asked himself if his eyes would realize that no matter how much he tears up, he wasn't going to cry.

"Mr. Barnes, I believe the bed is clean as it can be now."

Bucky stopped, his hand shaking slightly, and his human arm  felt as heavy as his metal one. He blinked a few times, his anger at himself faded into irritation. He threw the wet towel into the bathroom, making a splat sound on the floor, laid out the dry towel over the wet spot. He couldn't even put the extra sheets from his closet onto the bed because it was wet.

He left his room to go get water to drink, his throat felt dry. He walked out with heavy feet, irritated with himself and the voices battling in his head with memories of him and Steve cuddling and holding each other, and telling himself he didn't deserve that any more.

He walked fast to the kitchen, searching for a glass in the cabinet and just filled it up with tap water. He slammed the cabinet door shut, still angry with himself and turned quickly to go back to his room. He stopped as if he ran into a wall after only three steps, because Steve was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him with concerned and sleepy eyes.

He almost dropped his water, "Did I wake you up?" No, he knew he didn't before he asked. Steve was still in his jeans and shirt he had worn that day, and he asked FRIDAY if Steve was awake and he forgot. Stupid. He still asked, instead of standing there like an idiot in silence. He should have just taken a handful of tap water from his bathroom sink to drink or something, he would have avoided seeing Steve.

"Nope, I'm still doing mission reports." He nodded his head to the living room where there were papers spread out all over the coffee table.

"Steve, you need to sleep."

Steve just shrugged, "Me? You looked like you haven't slept since the forties."

His turn to shrug, he really hadn't slept good since the forties, cuddling close to Steve, but for about the thousandth time that night he repeated to himself that he didn't deserve that anymore. It wasn't like he hadn't slept, just sometimes nightmares kept him up.

"Buck," Steve's voice was full of emotion that Bucky couldn't pinpoint, he mostly sounded sad, but there was more to it. "I know it's different then when we were in the forties, everything was... not as hard." Easy wasn't the word to describe it. "But you're different, like really different."

"I'm sorry." He took a sip of water to keep his gaze away from Steve.

"No, no, don't be. I was just wondering why things are so different... between us now, ya' know. You just never talk to me, or anyone else really. It's like you're isolating yourself, Bucky. I'm just -"

"Sorry." He said again, shrinking in on himself. "I - I - um.."

"I'm just worried, that's all, nothing for you to be sorry about."

"But... but I -" He didn't even know what to say other than he was doing it to himself, for Steve not to worry, he was fine.

"It's nightmares, right?" Steve's eyes were wide and concerned again, "The reason you aren't sleeping?"

"Yeah," Bucky's voice cracked but Steve ignored it, any other time he would have teased him about it.

"Wanna talk?"

He shook his head this time.

"Wanna sit with me or are you gonna go back to sleep."

Bucky heard the voice again, telling him not to indulge in the small comforts. He was going to say no, he honestly was, he was going to lie to Steve and tell him he was going to go back to his room and going to sleep, then lay awake in bed until the sun came up. Then, without his permission: "I'll sit with you."

"C'mon." Steve reached for his hand, rolling his eyes when Bucky just stared at Steve's open palm, confused. Steve grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, walking them over to the couch with one arm over Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky's shoulders tensed, partly because of the unexpectedness of the touch. The other part was on purpose. He didn't want to let himself enjoy this because then he'd want it again. He scolded himself for even agreeing to go to the couch instead of back to his room.

Steve clicked the TV on and handed Bucky the remote, the TV was on some news station. "Watch whatever." Steve said grabbing his pen and started to sort through the mess of papers.

Bucky didn't change it. He didn't really know how to work the remote, they didn't have a TV in the forties - those didn't even have remotes - and he didn't go to the dumb team bonding movie nights Tony insisted on having. He thinks he could figure it out if it tried, he worked his phone easily enough - even though he only used it for missions, he didn't really talk to anyone unless he had to, he knew the other Avengers didn't like him and he was perfectly fine with it being like that. If they didn't get close to him, he couldn't hurt them. He just stared blankly at the news, didn't even hear what they were talking about.

Steve laughed softly, "You're gonna watch the news?"

"I - uh -" he blushed, "yeah."

Steve looked over at him with his eyes slightly narrowed. "Oh my god," he laughed and scooted closer to Bucky, "you don't know how to use the remote."

Bucky blushed more and Steve had this smile that Bucky couldn't help but return, no matter his embarrassment. He couldn't help but appreciate that Steve didn't mention anything about why he didn't know how to use the remote, that Bucky wasn't coming to the movie nights. Steve just learned in close, his shoulder pressed against Bucky's and went over what the buttons did.  

It was easy enough, the power button was on the top, the button to flip through channels literally had arrows to show if he was going up or down in channel numbers. Steve showed him to go to the recorded shows and told him not to delete any of them because all the shows on there was one that the other Avengers had recorded (mostly Clint).

He flipped through the channels a few times, not finding that many interesting shows. Steve said it was probably because it was three am when Bucky settled on the boring news station again. Steve thought for a second, staring at the paper he had been writing on, when Bucky looked over at him, he realized how close he was sitting. Their legs were touching and Steve's body was turned slightly to face his, he must not have moved after he showed Bucky how to use the remote. Bucky's shoulders tensed again when he realized he was letting himself enjoy this - don't deserve it, don't deserve it - but the rest of him stayed mostly still, muscles relaxed. Steve muttered out a channel number after a few seconds, "It's a kids movie channel. I usually watch it when I'm up late, the noise helps me stay up and the plots are easy to follow when you aren't paying attention."

Bucky looked over and smiled easily when he saw Steve blushing. "Aw, is Stevie embarrassed?" He poked at Steve's cheek, which was colored a light red.

"No," he said, smiling back and pushing Bucky's hand away.

They relaxed into an easy silence after that, Bucky eventually relaxed, and leaned into Steve. The blond just smiled and continued his paperwork.

Steve was right, the movie was pretty interesting but easy to follow, Bucky felt slightly disappointed when the movie's end credits started playing. The movie was more interesting than any of the kid movies he'd seen in the forties. The characters were all brightly drawn and colored, very animated and happy.

"Do you wanna stay out here for the next one or go to bed? I'm pretty much done with this," he threw a hand in the direction of the now neatly stacked mission reports.

Bucky smiled up at Steve shyly from where he was tucked into Steve's side with Steve's arms over his relaxed shoulder, holding him. His body was relaxed, his brain felt quiet, not constantly bothering him with rules he set for himself on what he could and couldn't do, and he felt safe for the first time since Hydra. Steve smiled back.

"We'll stay." Steve said, easily able to read the soft, content look in Bucky's eyes.

Bucky nodded, too tired and relaxed to find words to agree. He found his eyes dropping heavily and his thumb went to his mouth, only the tip of it held by his lips but it felt natural. Steve was playing with his shower damp hair and soon enough he got comfortable enough, and his thumb was fully in his mouth and his eyes were shut.

His brain took a good few moments to catch up with everything. When he realized that he was laying here with Steve, letting himself enjoy something he didn't need he jerked up out from under Steve's arm over his shoulders. His thumb fell out from his mouth, and both his hands were already pushing him up to get off the couch.

Steve easily caught his arm and pulled him back onto the couch before Bucky even knew that he was trying to get up. Bucky's eyes held panic and his face was flushed.

"Bucky, hey," he easily stopped Bucky's squirming, "what happened?"

Bucky shrugged, he still didn't feel like talking. He sniffed, tears pooling in his eyes and trying to hide from Steve by ducking his head down.

After his brain caught up, he realized he had jerked himself awake as a habit from trying to keep nightmares away. He didn't know how to explain that to Steve.

"C'mere, you want a hug?" Bucky felt himself start to shake and more tears that he couldn't let fall came.

 _No_ "Yes," _I don't_ "I do."

Steve's arms wrapped around him, just under his ribs and he pulled him close. Bucky didn't react at first, just trying to control his breathing to stop himself from crying. One of Steve's hands came up to hold the back of Bucky's head, fingers threading into his hair lightly. Bucky lost it, a year of built up, pushed down tears come streaming from his eyes. His arms came up to hold around Steve's neck, as if that would stop his shaking and crying.

His brain was screaming at him to get a hold of himself, then run away but Steve's arms were too tight around him. He let out a choked sound when Steve gently rubbed his back with the hand that wasn't in his hair.

Steve turned fully on the couch, his entire body facing Bucky, and hauled Bucky up so he was all the way on the couch too. Steve was muttering soft words to him, he couldn't make them out, he could only hear his brain telling him he's done absolutely nothing to deserve this soft treatment and care.

Steve had moved them so he was leaning against the arm of the couch, and his legs were stretched out across the couch. He had Bucky laying in his lap, arms still stubbornly wrapped around his neck with his face hidden in Steve's shoulder, lying chest to chest with him.

"Buck, hey, Bucky," there were hands in his hair again, twirling it around and fingers running through sleep tangled hair. "I'm right here, you're fine."

Bucky tried to talk, tried to apologize, to explain himself, to tell Steve that he didn't have to do this for him, but it just came out as gibberish.

"Steve, I... my... nightmares...you don'...don't..." his voice sounded high and babyish, but when he tried to control it, he just ended up over pronouncing words. "I'm sorry," _saw-ry_. His face turned red and he wanted to apologize, but more tears came, and he couldn't bring himself to start talking again.

"It's okay, it's okay."

"No, it not." He struggled to pronounce his words, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Steve felt like he was handling a little kid, not his stoic, closed off best friend. It was a new feeling. No matter how confused it made him, protective was a way to describe it.

"Why isn't it?"

" 'Cause you... I," Bucky shifted so he was looking at Steve now, "I don' deserve 'is"

Steve let him finish. "Everyone deserves a little bit of help."

"No, no, no."

"Why not?" Steve wiped the tears out of Bucky's eyes and off his face.

" 'Cause," he said, as if Steve should know.

"You're gonna have to tell me a bit more than just because."

"I..." his lip quivered, "hur'... hurt so man- many people. I di' so many bad things," _fings_

"They weren't your fault."

"I shoulda... realized they 'ere bad." More tears. "I shoulda stopped, I shoulda been able to -" Bucky cut himself off with a sob and pushed his face into Steve's chest.

Steve took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out the things that Bucky wasn't saying, and running his hand over Bucky's back. "You think... that you don't deserve to be taken care of because you hurt people when you weren't in control of yourself." He tried to place his words in simple terms, he felt like Bucky wouldn't be able to understand it otherwise in whatever mindstate he was in.

"I shoulda been able to 'op... stop myself, but I couldn'. I didn' do anything to earn 'is." _Anyfing_

Steve wanted to point out that he had been tortured and brainwashed, but he was sure that would make Bucky start sobbing more than he already was.

"Remember when I told you - back in the forties - that I could get by on my own when my mom died?" Bucky stayed quiet but Steve could tell that he remembered, so he finished. "You told me I didn't have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone gonna read this? intrested in me actually finishing it? cause i already have a lot written and of no one is gonna read it then i'm not gonna bother. but if someone wants to read it i will gladly write
> 
> if so any suggestions for things for me to add? not to add?


	2. Mess

Bucky woke up warm and comfortable, he took a minute to enjoy it, he kept his eyes closed and his breathing stayed slow and relaxed. He was so used to waking up with his heart pounding, trying to escape his chest, clothes and bed and blankets wet and cold, tears trying to force themselves out of his eyes and his breathing all over the place like his lungs were going to explode. Right now, it was nice, he couldn't think past the warmth all around him. 

He lay there for a long time, feeling floaty and light. Soon enough, he acknowledged the noises around him. He could hear someone else breathing next to his ear, soft even breaths in sync with his own. There was a happy voice coming out of the TV he remembers being on when he fell asleep. He could hear the heater running, Steve always liked their floor warm, he thinks it has something to do with the whole ice thing. Bucky didn't care too much for the cold either, after Hydra and all they... Hydra... Hydra and all the things he did for them. He remembers telling Steve about his thoughts last night. Crap, crap, crap, he remembers falling asleep on top of Steve last night, cuddled close - 

He almost jerked up, but the limp arm that was wrapped around his back tightened. "It's just me." Steve said, "don't leave."

After thanking a moment to assure himself that he had left his pants thankfully dry while he slept, then Bucky took a moment to appreciate that Steve knew he would try to run. He's already so embarrassed about last night, he had sobbed like a baby about stuff that he was supposed to keep to himself. On top of that, he talked like a baby when he was spilling his secret. He remembers his tongue feeling heavy and useless in his mouth as he tried to speak. His words came out with letters over pronounced, and he couldn't make some of the sounds of the letters. He couldn't form long, thought out sentences; his words had to be simple.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words sounded funny and muffled. Horrified, he took his thumb out of his mouth that he had been apparently been sucking on while he was sleeping. His face turned red, god, he was weird. When he saw a bit of drool on Steve's shirt, he wondered why Steve was even dealing with him when he was like this. "Sorry," he said again, trying to ignore the still babyish tone in his voice, after taking his thumb out of his mouth, "I'm sorry about - about -" his head thumped against Steve's shoulder.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about." 

"But I do, I - I -" he was going to start crying again if he didn't stop.

"No," Steve insisted, "you don't, you did nothing wrong."

Bucky couldn't even argue with Steve, he was so tired still, sleeping had felt so nice, especially with Steve holding him so close. His brain was already starting to tell him he didn't deserve to be held like this, so comfortable and safe, but Steve must have been a mind reader. 

"So what if you cried a bit last night, you've apparently been being really hard on yourself since everything happened. You remember all that stuff you said, right?" Bucky nodded, ashamed. "You shouldn't do that to yourself, deny yourself of comfort and relationships because of stuff that you did while brainwashed." Tortured seemed like a bit too harsh of a word for right now. 

Bucky nodded, even though he didn't agree, he was too embarrassed to talk. He kept asking himself why he did that, why he felt like a little kid when he did. It was humiliating, it was dumb and weird and so many other things but he had felt so light and carefree even as he told Steve that something was wrong. He almost wanted to feel like that again but not under the same circumstances. How sick was that?

Steve didn't let go, he kept Bucky pinned tightly to his chest and his hand was in Buckys hair again, keeping Bucky's face safely tucked into his neck. 

They lay quietly for a minute, Steve playing with Bucky's hair and a kids movie playing quietly on the TV. 

Steve chuckled suddenly, "You slept for thirteen hours."

"I -" he laughed too, lifting his head from Steve's shoulder, the hand in his hair fell limply onto his back. "Wha' time did I fall asleep?" His voice was still childlike but not as bad as last night 

"Four am."

"Four... It's five at ni'?" Night, he tried his hardest to say.

"Yeah."

"God, I feel like I could sleep 'or another thirteen hours still."

Steve was quiet for a moment, just looking at Bucky. "When was.. when was the last time you slept without a nightmare?"

He shrugged awkwardly with their position, "Before." Last week he had an almost full night of peaceful, exhausted sleep but he knew what Steve meant. So that was all he said all he said for Steve to understand. Before the war, before Hydra, before he hurt everyone, before he killed all those people. Before.

Steve just nodded, "You wanna eat?" Steve asked, even though he was already getting up, shifting so Bucky would get up off of him.

Bucky waited for Steve to fold the blanket he had pulled over them when Bucky had fallen asleep and lay it back over the back of the couch. He followed Steve to the kitchen, still feeling a bit like a small kid when Steve asked him what he wanted. 

"You feeling breakfast or dinner, I mean, it's dinner time and all but you kinda slept through breakfast so..."

"Anything's fine." <em>Anyfing's</em> Bucky blushed again, closing his eyes and ducking his head as if that would hide him from Steve. He hoped Steve didn't realize the babyish sounding voice that Bucky was all of the sudden using. The stare he felt on him said that Steve had realized.

"I'm feeling breakfast." Steve said, not acknowledging the weird way Bucky was talking because he knew it would definitely get a negative reaction out of him. He didn't mind it too much either. He found it kind of adorable. Not last night though, Bucky had been too frantic and distressed for the baby talk to be cute. "What if we make waffles?"

Bucky nodded and smiled, he liked waffles. He usually ate frozen eggo waffles if he ate at all in the morning, but he usually just skipped breakfast and trained.

He watched happily as Steve grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and set it on the counter. He grabbed flour, sugar, eggs, milk, vegetable oil and a measuring cup. Bucky watched him with childlike wonder in his eyes, he shouldn't be so amazed by cooking but it looked like so much fun. He wanted to help but he would probably make a mess so he stood back and watched.

Steve, of course, saw this and smiled at Bucky. He'd never seen Bucky like this, he was so... carefree. He knew Bucky was in a different state of mind at the moment where all the bad things only existed in the back of his mind, like he was a kid. Steve quickly decided he liked it and that they could talk about what it was later. For now he would just take care of Bucky however Bucky needed. 

"You wanna help?" 

"Wha' if I make a mess?" Bucky frowned, shifting slightly where he stood by the dining table.

"Messes can be cleaned."

"Really?" Steve could hear the smile in his voice, "You won' ge' mad?"

"No, not over a little mess in the kitchen. C'mon, I need help."

Bucky hesitated still, what if Steve was just saying that and he would get mad. He didn't want to get yelled at. 

Steve smiled reassuringly and Bucky found it hard to not believe him when he said, "I won't get mad."

"Okay," Bucky whispered taking slow steps until he was standing in front of the sink. Steve flipped the handle of the water on for him to wash his hands. After he dried his hands, he joined Steve at the counter, looking down at the bowl. Steve took the measuring cup and took a scoop of flour, his hand coming out with some bits of flour stuck to it. The flour went over the two cup line but Steve didn't seem all that concerned by it so Bucky didn't say anything. The measuring cup was placed in his hand, Steve told him to pour it in the bowl, just dump it upside down.

He did. Not much happened, just a puff of flour inside the bowl as it settled. He giggled at it - giggled. Then he blushed because he giggled, and that had made Steve smile.

Steve poured a cup and a half of milk, a bit over again. Bucky went down to eye level with Steve, who was looking to see how much milk was in the cup. 

" 'Is over uh 'ine." It's over the line, is what he tried and failed at saying. 

"Yeah," Steve said, "cooking with exact measurements is boring, it tastes better like this too."

Bucky nodded along with Steve, standing up from his crouched position from looking at the measuring cup. Steve guessed on how much sugar to add, poured it from the container straight into the bowl, not even measuring how much. He went with "that looks like enough." 

The only thing Steve measured exactly was the vegetable oil, "We don't need extra of it, it's bad for you."

Steve held out an egg for Bucky to take. "Wha'?" 

"Crack it and put it in the bowl."

"I... wha' if I..." 

"What if you what, Bucky?"

"Hid it too har'or ge' the shells in the bol." Hit it too hard or get shells in the bowl.

How Steve managed to understand him was beyond him but he was thankful that Steve didn't ask him to speak clearer. He probably wouldn't be able to. "The first time I cooked for myself here, I accidentally crushed the egg in my hand. The second egg shattered when I hit it against the counter."

"But -" 

"You don't need to be so afraid to mess up, I won't get mad, promise."

Bucky almost asked 'Pinky promise?' but stopped himself the second the thought occurred. Steve would definitely say something then. His face flushed at the thought of saying such a childish thing.

"Just tap it on the counter and it'll start to break." 

Bucky did, so slowly and with barely any force behind it but with the egg shell still cracked. A small circle from the impact and a whole bunch of smaller cracks all around the egg. Some of the whites dripped out of the cracks, all over Bucky's hand and sticking to the flour on his hands. He used his thumbs to gently split the egg and drop it in the bowl, a shell falling in with it.

Steve grabbed the egg shell with his thumb quickly out of the bowl, "Good job." He smiled honestly, handing Bucky another egg to repeat the process with. 

He did, no shells fell into the bowl this time. Steve told him good job, patting his shoulder in praise and getting a bit of flour on his shirt. Bucky made a happy noise in the back of his throat, smiling shyly at Steve. 

The third egg cracked too much, the shell breaking in his hand, enough of it to avoid the egg falling but still making a mess on the counter and his hands. He squeaked softly, stumbling to catch the yoak so it didn't make a bigger mess.

"Saw-wee." Then more clearly, "Sor-ry."

Steve was quick though, he grabbed Bucky by the arm and gently pulled him over to the sink. Steve turned the water on but Bucky just stood there, still holding the egg and its broken shell in his hands, as his lip quivered. 

"Don't cry," Steve's voice held pity but it was commanding. "You're fine."

"I'm - I'm - 'm -" Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and shied away from Steve, as if expecting to be hit.

Steve's hands wrapped around his wrists, moving his hands so the egg and the shell fell into the sink. He put Bucky's hands under the stream of water and pumped soap into his hand. 

"You're okay," Steve muttered so softly Bucky barely heard it over his quickening breaths. Steve was rubbing his back, "It's just an egg, honey, we have more." 

Bucky shook his head, " 'M sorry." When he was under Hydra's control he use to get punished for such small things and this just felt like one of those things.

"Don't apologize so much." Steve patted his shoulder, flipping the garbage disposal on to get rid of the egg in the sink while Bucky dried his hands.

"Here," Steve handed Bucky another egg, "try again." 

He did. It cracked nicely into the bowl, Steve was smiling and telling him he did a good job. Bucky blushed at the praise while he threw away the last egg shell. 

When it came time to put sugar, Steve added a bit more than a tablespoon of sugar. "No one has to know." He said to Bucky while putting the sugar away.

He let Bucky mix all the ingredients together, he didn't even feel like crying when he spilled some over the side. The batter went over the side of the bowl in a large drop and ran down his hand. Steve had laughed, flicked about half of the drop off of Bucky's hand and onto his finger. Steve licked the drop off his own finger, leaving the other half for Bucky.

"Can I..."

"Yep." 

Bucky smiled at the sweet taste of the batter when he licked it off his hand. He looked over at Steve with a light smile and flushed cheeks, his head felt light and it was quiet. It was a nice change from... all the bad things he's been doing to himself, he couldn't really remember what he was doing but he knew it was hurting him. He didn't think about it too hard because Steve was taking the bowl out of his hands and starting to bring it to the waffle maker similar to the ones he's seen in the forties but much more expensive looking.

Bucky got easily bored after watching Steve pour the runny batter into the waffle maker to make the first waffle. Bucky squirmed around from where he stood next to the counter. He looked at the fridge, there were a few magnets on it he didn't take notice to before. There were two from California, the golden gate bridge and one that said California in fancy letters. Maybe from Ant-Man, Bucky thinks he was from California... Scott? There were a few that looked like they were from a tourist shop from down the street. New York, Brooklyn, the statue of liberty (not surprising for Steve). There was a grocery list stuck up on the fridge with a clip magnet. There was another magnet of a middle finger on the top left of the fridge that he assumes is from one of the other avengers. 

Bucky looked up at the lights, he studied the ceiling, tried to count the cracks on the floor, looked at all the food sitting out on the counter in jars, and drummed his fingers on the counter. 

"You bored, Buck?" 

"Lil' bit." 

"The first ones almost done." Bucky groaned, not even one finished after all this time? "You can eat it when it's done."

"No." 

"No?"

"No," Bucky confirmed, but his voice cowered like he was afraid he said something wrong or disappointed Steve. 

"Why not?" Steve's voice was soft, confused. Not angry or disappointed or irritated or anything but confused. "You not hungry?"

"I am."

"Then... why wait?"

" 'Cause I... you made 'em too. I wanna wait 'or you."

"Oh," Steve laughed, his eyes crinkled when his lips curled up, "Okay."

The light on the waffle maker turned from red to green, telling them that the waffle was done. Steve got it out easily enough, putting it down on a plate and covering it with a towel to keep it warm. Steve poured some more batter into the waffle maker and closed it.

"Why don't you go watch a movie," Steve suggested, "I think there's still one playing." 

Bucky hesitated as he looked into the living room from where he stood by the counter. He suddenly remembers his time with Hydra, times when he wasn't on a mission or in cryo or in that chair or -

"Hey -"

\- he would have to stay with his handlers, follow them around like a dog. Five steps behind, same pace as them, he remembered getting in so much trouble if he left the room without a handler with him and - 

"- Bucky -" 

\- "Go grab me a pen from my office." His handler turned towards him and he stopped five steps behind him, like he was trained to. He easily followed the command, turning and leaving the room to go to the office they had just walked out of.

"- you okay, buddy?"

He remembered being hit and punched and yelled at just for doing what his handler had told him to do. "Don't you ever leave the room without someone, you have to be monitored. You're unstable and untrustworthy, got it?" A few more punches made sure he had.

He hadn't thought about that since he got here. He had mostly wanted to be alone in a room but now the memory came back strong and he didn't want to leave Steve's side. He didn't want to get in trouble again, he couldn't take being yelled at, not when he felt so small and vulnerable. 

"I'm sorry," he said in a high pitched voice but no baby talk. 

"You gotta stop apologizing, Buck, you did nothing wrong." Bucky shook his head, Steve was right. He hadn't really done anything wrong, but he still felt bad for making Steve worry. 

"You okay?" Steve said after a moment of Bucky fighting back tears at the memory. 

Yes, just say yes, he doesn't need to know, it isn't important. "Yeah," whatever mind space he had been in was thankfully (?) fading away.

"You sure?" 

He nodded.

"So no movie?" 

"Later." He lied, later - after breakfast - he was going to lock himself back in his room and put things back to how they were up until last night. He was going to be by himself and not bother Steve with things he should be dealing with by himself. 

Steve knew him too well, even after they have both changed so much. Steve knew he was lying. "We're gonna talk about last night over breakfast."

"About what, there's nothing to talk about."

Steve was already turning around to go get the finished waffle out of the cooker. "Oh, there's plenty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how often should i update?


	3. Syrup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me in the comments: no more updates this week  
> me no less than three hours later: *posts new chapter*

He could feel it coming, Steve's disapproval at the whole thing. The way the fact that he obviously hasn't been sleeping because of nightmares, that he hasn't been taking care of himself and the way he has been dealing with all of it - the whole talking and acting like a baby. His face and ears felt hot, and he wanted to wrap his arms around himself to hide. He found himself wishing for a hoodie to pull over his hands and disappear into.

He watched silently from his chair as Steve spread butter on three waffles.

"That's too much food for me." He said as Steve began to cut the waffles into little square pieces for him. Thank fuck his voice was back to normal.

"No it isn't, you're a super soldier, too, Buck."

"So?" He said, trying to act oblivious.

"Don't even try to play that. Eat." Steve handed him the fork with a stern look on his face. Bucky's face turned from defiant and stubborn to something soft and free of resistance.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, cringing everytime their forks would accidentally clink against the plate. Bucky felt himself just getting more anxious while "there's plenty to talk about" went through his head over and over. He was just waiting for Steve to say something.

"Why are you moving so much - sit still."

"Sorry," he muttered, cheeks going warm.

"I'm not mad at you, not for last night or anything that you told me."

"You're not?" He asked, looking up from his halfway finished waffles.

"No but we still gotta talk about it."

"Why?"

" 'Cause it's not healthy." He looked real concerned.

"What do you mean not h -"

"You aren't sleeping."

"Well of course not, we are eating breakfast."

"Bucky."

"Sorry," Bucky shrugged.

"You aren't sleeping enough," Steve corrected so Bucky couldn't be a smart mouth this time.

"I am."

"When can you honestly tell me the last time you got at least six hours of sleep."

Bucky stared at his food, suddenly interested in eating it.

"Five?"

"Sure," he said around a bit of food.

"Less that five?"

He stared hard at the table as if not look at Steve would make the question go away. "Yeah," his voice came out as an embarrassing squeak, looking a lot like a little kid getting in trouble.

"Hey," Steve reached across the table, tipping Bucky's chin up to look at him. "You aren't in trouble or anything, we'll work on this stuff, okay? That is if you want my help."

No his brain immediately told him no. Bucky's head was tipping down again and he took another bite of waffles. He knew if he said no Steve would be disappointed and worried but he couldn't say yes, he didn't deserve help. But... if he got more cuddles like last night and -

"No. No it's okay, I'm fine."

"You're fine?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

"Uh, yeah," Bucky said as if it was obvious that he was.

Steve's eyes narrowed into little blue slits as he stared at Bucky, trying to analyze him. "I -" Bucky started to say but Steve was speaking too.

"When was the last time you let yourself cry?"

"What?"

"When was the last time you cried?" He repeated, eyes still squinted.

Bucky really tried to play it off that he was confused at the weird question but he knows he hasn't willingly let himself cry. There were times where tears had escaped while he was still asleep or overflowed out if his eyes but he always tried to stop them.

"I saw the bruise on your wrist," Steve said when Bucky didn't answer, "Don't think I don't remember, you use to do that all the time when we were kids."

"I don't know wha -"

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes feeling wet. No, he couldn't cry in front of Steve again. He muttered another sorry as he dropped his head in between his elbows and hooked his fingers behind his neck, one cold and one warm.

He heard Steve get up and felt his stomach twist with disappointment and relief at the same time. He didn't want to be left alone, but he didn't want Steve to see him like this ever again or have to deal with his issues.

He almost jumped when he heard the plate that had been in front of him being picked up. More footsteps. Then the were hands in his hair, gently running through it and brushing tangles from sleep out. His shoulders drooped and it was like a chain reaction of all his muscles relaxing just from Steve's hands running through his hair, brushing all the tension away. His arms fell from where they had been behind his neck to lay folded on his table, he shifted so his face was buried in the crook of his elbow.

He heard a soft laugh above him, "You got syrup in your hair," Steve grabbed a sticky strand of hair near the front of his head, "guess you need to go shower, huh?"

He could only nod, happy to get out of the conversation about him that was starting.

"We're gonna finish this conversation when you are done."

Bucky really wanted to say no, get up and go lock himself in his room for the rest of the... day? Night? He could remember what time it was. He couldn't find it in himself to get up, not with Steve's fingers carding through his hair.

"Okay, Buddy, you gotta go shower." Steve said, brushing his fingers though Bucky's hair one more time before letting it drop around his shoulders again.

"I already showered today." Bucky said into his arms, his head pushing at that little kid version of himself but fighting to stay normal at the same time.

"When, you've been sleeping all day?"

"When I -" he almost told Steve that he had an accident last night, then cursed at himself because Steve shouldn't need to know that. He was too open and trusting in this mind space. "before I left my room."

"Oh," Steve said, rubbing a hand up and down his back as his muscles started to tense up again. "Okay, but you have to go wash your hair again at least. You got syrup in it when you laid your head down."

Oh. He remembers Steve saying something about that but he hadn't seen it as that big of a deal, his hair couldn't have been that sticky if Steve was playing with it. Still, Steve told him to go shower, so he got up.

The sheets that he had left bunched up in the shower were still wet. He threw them in the corner of the bathroom and decided to deal with them later.

He washed his hair, just like Steve said, realizing that yes it was sticky. Not all of his hair, just the parts that hang in front of his eyes when he had his hair pulled back.

When he got out, he dried himself off fully before he slipped back into the same pajamas he was wearing before. He didn't leave himself damp and uncomfortable under the clothes and he didn't decide that his discomfort didn't matter. He only thought that Steve wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable right now and then told himself he would go back to not letting himself enjoy anything later.

He hesitated before he want back out to the living room. Maybe Steve telling him to go shower was his way of telling Bucky that he was done with helping him. He probably wanted to be by himself after spending over thirteen hours with Bucky and his problems.

"FRIDAY?" He said uncertainty, rubbing at the back of his neck and resisting the urge to look up at the ceiling as he talked to the AI.

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?"

"Is Steve still in the living room?"

"Yes."

"Is he busy?"

"He is reading a few articles on his phone and he has the movies that you two were playing on pause for you."

"He... can you ask him if I can - um..." he stopped realizing his stupid his question was. "I can - never mind, I'm gonna stay in here." He did really know what he could do. He couldn't sit on the bed without drying his sheets and that would mean seeing Steve on his way to they dryer. He did not need Steve knowing he wet the bed. He couldn't go train because then he would pass Steve and have to talk to him. He couldn't trouble Steve anymore today or tomorrow or the day after that or anymore.

"Captain Rogers said for you to come out to the living room when you are done with your shower."

"Are you sure?" Why he was taking orders from Steve so willingly, he wasn't sure. Even when his stomach twisted with the thought of going out and talking about all the things wrong with him, he still turned the door knob without hesitation.

"Very," he could hear the sarcasm in the AI's voice.

-

Steve smiled when he saw Bucky appear in the doorway. It was this affectionate smile that softly crinkled Steve's shining eyes that were filled with this happy puppy dog love. Bucky didn't think that look could be directed at him but he smiled softly back.

Steve pulled him close when he sat on the couch. It reminded him of being back in Brooklyn, sitting curled around Steve after a stressful day and just closing his eyes as his muscles relaxed. Now though, he was tense.

"Buck, relax, we're just gonna talk."

Bucky shook his head.

"Why not?"

Bucky shook his head again.

"Use your words."

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"About what?" Steve pushed, and held Bucky's shoulders tighten when he squirmed.

"About last night... or this morning or whatever time it was." He shrugged.

"Listen, I'm not gonna force you to talk, alright? You can go back to your room right now and not have to tell me anything." Bucky shifted in the hold Steve had around his shoulders. "Or you can stay here and tell me what's wrong so you don't have to feel like crap all the time anymore. I won't get mad, promise, 'kay? Then we can watch a movie after." He nodded his head toward were a movie was on pause as FRIDAY had told him.

"I don't wanna -" Bucky sighed, hiding his face. He had no idea what to do.

"Do you want to talk, 'cause you seem like you do."

"I don't know." He said into Steve's side where he was hiding his face. "Nothing's really the matter."

"Really?" Steve muttered disbelieving. "You said that earlier."

Bucky blushed and squirmed. There was a moment Steve almost lifted the hand off his shoulders, thinking he was trying to get up but he only buried his face deeper into Steve's side. "I just - it's..." Bucky just sighed.

"Hard?"

"Yeah."

Bucky's brain was screaming. No, no, no. He shifted in his seat, remembering how nice it had been this morning to have his head clear. It had been ruined pretty quickly cause nothing should stay nice for Bucky. He found himself wanting to feel soft and relaxed like that again. He ignores his head and listened to Steve. If Steve thought this would help.

They talked for a long time. Steve started by asking simple yes or no questions so Bucky wouldn't have to talk. Bucky didn't move his face from where it was hiding in Steve's side and Steve didn't move his arm from around Bucky. The questions were easy at first. Did he enjoy breakfast? Did he like the movies? Did he remember cuddling like this before? Did he sleep good on the couch? Easy things like that. Then they got a bit harder. Steve asked about nightmares first. How many times he woke up with them. How well did he remember what happened when he woke up. Steve assured Bucky that if he had a nightmare again, he was always happy to cuddle or listen or whatever Bucky needed.

"So - uh..." Steve's voice was so soft and different than the confident way it had been just a moment ago. Bucky looked up at him, he had a light blush over his nose. "Why... how come... sorry I really don't know how to ask this."

Bucky looked confused, even if he had a feeling he knew what was coming. He could feel the tension sitting thick around them and could only wait for Steve to find a way to call him weird and messed up for the way he had talked and acted yesterday. Bucky found himself getting anxious and squirmy and ready to get up and leave. Steve's arm tightened around him.

"I know you noticed how you were acting last night and when you woke up... like, uh - like a little kid."

There it was. Bucky blushed again and really tried not to hide his face in Steve's side. "Yeah." His voice was barely over a small squeak. He opened his mouth again to apologize for everything but Steve just started talking again.

"Has it ever happened before?" Bucky didn't know. He's felt floaty like that before but he didn't let himself get lost in it until last night. He kept asking and asking why he let himself do that. His whole body felt hot and he wanted to get up. He wanted to get up and run and never have to face Steve again.

"Hey, no, don't be embarrassed. It's alright."

"No it isn't," Bucky stressed, "It's so weird and... and freaky and I'm -"

"Shut up, Bucky. I didn't ask what it was, I asked you if it's happened before."

"Kinda."

"Kinda?"

"It... I think it has." Bucky looked up at Steve for approval. He got another one of those smiles filled with admiration and wonder.

"What did it feel like, yesterday and last night? Were you like... feeling like that the whole time?"

"It uh, wavered, I guess. Last night was more fighting against feeling like that, I didn't want to bother you, but my brain was pushing to have that fuzzy safe feeling. This morning that feeling was easily interrupted."

Steve smiled and ran finger though Bucky's hair, his shoulder immediately relaxing. "You like having your hair played with?" Bucky's face was too red already to turn any darker. He shrugged. "You're allowed to like things."

"But I don't need to be treated like this."

"What do you mean?"

"So nicely, I don't deserve it." He was saying before he could think any better of it. Then he was squirming out if Steve's grasp. Why did he have to say that?

"I think you do." Was all Steve said before Bucky got up.

"Can we not talk about it?" He muttered, but was already sitting back down.

"I'm not just going to forget about it but we can wait a while. We don't have to talk about everything in one day."

"Thanks."

"Can I ask a few more questions?"

Bucky wanted to say no. He was tired of talking. He wanted to watch a movie though. Steve had said they had to talk before they watched a movie. "Yeah." He trusted Steve not to mention what they just talked about for today.

"So um, I asked FRIDAY a bit about the way you were acting." Bucky glared up at the ceiling. "She said that you're not the only person that... regresses in age, so to speak."

"You mean acts like they're an incapable baby?"

"Harsh way to put it." Steve said, tipping his head back and obviously trying not to blush. It made Bucky want to giggle a bit.

"I don't like it, it's weird. I shouldn't -"

"She said that some people go into this headspace when they don't have to be responsible and can just let someone else take care of them. Is that what's going on, or something you want?"

He wanted to say yes. Wanted this whole thing to feel normal and safe but it was so strange and embarrassing he wonders how it could ever feel normal or safe. He worried about Steve judging him or deciding that he didn't want to be a part of it.

"I want an honest answer, Buck. I'm serious."

Bucky made a small anxious noise in the back of his throat. He wanted to shake his head and run. He wanted to tell Steve no. But Steve want honesty.

"I'm not sure." Was as honest as he could get.

"You want me to explain it a bit more? FRIDAY gave me a few articles. I read them while you were in the shower, I can send them to you or we can read them together."

Bucky glanced at Steve's phone that he had set down on the coffee table. He leaned forward out of Steve's cuddle and grabbed it. He handed it to Steve and leaned his head on the blond's shoulder as he turned his phone on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how would you guys feel about Natasha or Tony making an appearance LATER? very _very_ later.


	4. Warm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay i said i wasn't going to post this week anymore cause of finals and stuff but you know what... just enjoy.
> 
> i tried to ignore my little space and focus fully on my finals instead but let me tell it did not go well. i was little during my bio final and freaking out and trying not to cry. she graded it in class and i got 92% so i think it's okay. anyways, don't ignore your little space friends

They had read on Steve's phone for a long time. Bucky tried to wrap his head around this whole thing. The articles and websites had called it Little Space. People would regress in age, go into a headspace where they were a little kid - no matter their physical age - sometimes less than one year old to up to teenage years. The ages varied from person to person. Most littles had a caregiver, or a daddy or mommy. Some littles didn't need them, but that also depended on the person and their regressed age. Their caregiver had to be someone they trusted and so on.

Bucky knew immediately that was exactly what he wanted. He hadn't told that to Steve though. No way. Bucky didn't need that but did selfishly want it. He wasn't going to do anything about it though.

"Does this... is it what's going on? Is something like this what you need? Someone to take care of you? To be little?" Steve said the last word as if he was trying it out.

"I'm not sure." He defended right away, not wanting to admit to it. Reading about other people having similar experiences and situations too has made him feel a bit better about the whole age regression thing (for some people it was a sexual thing too. They had accidentally stumbled across an article about it, Bucky had stopped reading, confused and feeling weird about it. "It's not- not like that for you, right?" "No, god no." Bucky said quickly, looking over at Steve's relieved face.). He knew that Steve would be the only person he would trust to do this. He also knew that the thought of this terrified him. Made some deep fear swirl inside him and all he wanted to do was run from it and tell Steve he didn't need this. But Steve made it hard to just say no, to lie. Especially with the way Steve cuddled him.

Steve held Bucky close on the couch. Bucky's legs were in his lap, stretched out and comfortable. His torso was cuddled into Steve's side, an arm around him to help him stay sitting up right. Bucky's eyes were dropping heavily but every time they would close, he would blink them back open. He couldn't fall asleep again, even if it was getting a bit late. He couldn't risk nightmares, Steve didn't need to worry about those, he could deal. Nightmares also lead to wetting, which Steve could never figure out about. He didn't need Steve seeing him as anymore of a pathetic or weak baby than he already did. He'd always been the one there for Steve, the strong one. He couldn't ruin that. Not for Steve or himself. Steve probably wants things to go back to how they were before, and they couldn't if Bucky was so defeated.

The movie was also a good reason to stay awake. Steve had turned on a Disney movie, The Little Mermaid. Bucky was memorized by it. He watched the little fish swimming around the screen, got excited when they started singing and laughed real soft whenever the fish talked. He had caught Steve staring at him again with that puppy love smile. He smiled back as genuinely as he could manage.

"You like the movie, bud?"

He nodded, not really wanting to talk. He thinks he could if he wanted to but the silence sat pleasantly in his throat.

"You getting tired? I can take you to bed after if you want."

Bucky shook his head, Steve would find his sheets off the bed and the stain in his mattress. He was good right here.

"You want to sleep out here again?"

He shook his head.

"Then where are you gonna sleep, silly?"

"I c'n take myself t' bed." He was definitely over-pronouncing his words, just like a little kid. His voice was more relaxed too, his Brooklyn accent showing though a bit. Steve thought it was cute.

"What? You don't want me to tuck you in and read you a story?" Steve teased, poking at the cute blush on Bucky's cheek at the idea. "I can if you want." He said, still teasing but a bit more serious now.

Bucky shook his head again. "It's okay." He didn't need that even if it sounded nice.

Steve sighed softly, burying his nose in Bucky's neck. He placed a soft kiss there and Bucky relaxed even more. Then Steve was scratching his fingers through Bucky's hair and twirling pieces of it around his fingers. He gently tugged, undid tangles, and scratched at Bucky's head. Bucky was a puddle in Steve's lap during this, relaxing and letting his eyes fall shut. He was just a boneless pile on Steve's lap.

"I wish I knew about this before. I woulda played with your hair all the time if I did." Bucky hummed softly, imagining himself and Steve curled together on the couch after he had a long day on the docks. Steve's fragile, nimble fingers messing up his nicely styled hair. Short strands standing up crazy from Steve's gentle fingers. He thought about cutting his hair like he had it before Hydra. Now it fell long, just resting on his shoulders. He couldn't do it. He had his hair grown out to hide his face better when on missions. Now it had become a security. He didn't think he could stand not having his hair to hide behind.

Steve continued playing with Bucky's hair until the boy's breathing was soft and even, and he was slumped heavily against Steve.

The couch, along with their sat up positions, became uncomfortable quickly. Steve was going to lay them down on the couch like last night but he didn't want to wake up with a sore neck and back again.

He hauled Bucky up from under his arms and stood up. Bucky made a sleepy protesting noise and it was one of the cutest things Steve's heard. Steve shushed him a bit and lifted him enough for his legs to wrap around his waist. He held Bucky with one arm on his back and the other under his bottom to hold him up.

He walked them easily to Bucky's room, planning to tuck the boy in and wait until he fell back asleep if he woke up to leave.

"Aw, sweetheart, is this why you didn't want me to bring you to your room?"

Bucky blinked a few times, confused as he registered where he was and that he was in Steve's arms. Steve had carried him into his room. His sheets were off the bed and still thrown in a damp heap on the bathroom floor. His mattress was bare except for a towel over the most recent stain. The other ones were shown on the bed, not hidden under the small towel.

Bucky flinch and tried to get out of Steve's hold but the blond held tight. "Hey, Buck" Steve started.

"No," Bucky shook his head, his legs weakly wrapped around Steve's waist. Well, now they were loosely sagging around the backs of his legs.

He wanted down, away from Steve but he also wanted to wrap Steve around himself and hide forever. He heard FRIDAY talking, probably explaining to Steve or answering a question.

Bucky felt his eyes fill with embarrassed tears and he refused to let them fall. Well, he tried not to let them fall... it was really Steve's fault. Steve was supposed to be teasing him, calling him names, making fun of him, already telling everyone that the Winter Soldier wets the bed. Bucky could handle that, it wouldn't make him cry. But no. Steve slipped the hand that was around Bucky's back down to under one of his legs, where the other one was. He pulled Bucky back up close to him and gently swayed them side to side, shushing Bucky. He whispered soft things right next to his ear and told him it would be okay, that no one was mad. Then Bucky's eyes flooded over and he was breathing hard. He wanted to squirm out of Steve's arms and disappear into the floor but Steve wouldn't let him down.

"Come on," Steve said softly as he started to walk out of Bucky's room, even though Bucky didn't really have a choice if he wanted to go or not. Steve wouldn't let him down.

He wanted to ask where they were going but that was answered when he dropped gently down onto a mattress. There were fluffy blankets under him and a soft pillow supporting his head. The bed was dry too. He knew he was in Steve's bed. He was rolling to get up but Steve sat down next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You could have told me." He said, holding eye contact with Bucky, even though the boy was trying to look anywhere but at Steve.

" 'M sorry." He said, over pronouncing the e sound. "I - I - I -"

Steve shushed him again, fingers absentmindedly twirling Bucky's hair. "You aren't in trouble. Never would be for something like that, okay?" Steve paused, waiting for an answer but all Bucky could do was look at Steve dumbly. "Okay?" He asked again, more firm this time.

"Mhm, okay." He said as clearly as possible.

"You're gonna get some sleep in here for now." Steve told him, standing up and peeling back the covers on the side of the bed that was now empty. He tugged on Bucky's arm until the boy understood that meant he was to move over there.

Before Steve covered him with the blankets, he pulled Bucky's socks and shirt off. Then he pushed him to lay down and wrapped the blankets warm around him. Bucky shifted himself until he could reach his arms out and make grabby hands at Steve, who understood the gesture, sat done on the edge of the bed and leaned down into Bucky's hug.

"You're okay," he said and Bucky realized tears were either still falling or they were starting up again. "You don't needa be upset about it. Look, lay down and shut your eyes. Even if you don't fall asleep, just rest."

Bucky shook his head and blinked tears out of his eyes when Steve went to sit up. "Hey, hey, don't cry. I'm not leaving." Bucky just held tighter. "Want me to lay with you?"

Bucky didn't say anything, just rolled himself to the other side of the bed to make room for Steve. Steve debated before he laid down, then pulled his own shirt off and tucked himself under the blankets. He thought Bucky would do well with some skin to skin contact, as touch starved as he seemed to be. Steve grabbed Bucky and pulled him close, their noses were almost touching and they were on the same pillow. They were back in Brooklyn. Two kids, before the war, sharing a too small twin bed in the winter for warmth. Steve was still a small and sickly kid that just lost his mom and Bucky still was this cocky confident kid that still had both his arms.

Bucky fell asleep content, one metal and one human arm wrapped around Steve. Steve didn't complain about the cold metal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates will be every week... i cannot guarantee a specific day
> 
> i don't think i did too well with this part. should i rewrite it or leave it as is?


	5. Later

FRIDAY, please tell me when he wakes up or if he has a nightmare... or an accident." Steve said softly, slipping out of bed once he was one hundred percent sure that Bucky was asleep.

 

"Of course, Captain Rogers." FRIDAY answered as Steve silently shut the door behind him. He walked into Bucky's room, leaving to door open just in case Bucky came looking for him.

Steve grabbed all the blankets and sheets sitting in a heap on the floor in Bucky's bathroom. "Why didn't he wash these?" Steve muttered to FRIDAY, as he gathered the wet pajama pants that had been over the side of the tub.

"I believe it is because you were in the living room and to get to the washing machine he would have had to pass by you. Cleaning sheets at two in the morning would have looked a bit suspicious, he didn't want you to know."

Steve nodded, frowning as he walked to the washing machine and shoved everything in there. FRIDAY turned it on for him.

"How do I... What do I do about his bed?" Steve asked, moving the towel. The stain wasn't bad, Bucky had obviously cleaned it with something but it hadn't been enough.

"I would recommend cleaning it with a mix of baking soda, hydrogen peroxide and dish soap in an empty spray bottle."

He nodded, "That's... bleach, right?"

"Yes."

The empty spray bottle was the hardest thing to find. He ended up pouring a half empty bottle of glass cleaner down the drain. He decided being a bit wasteful was less important than this.

He finished cleaning the bed, hoping most of the stains will be faded or gone by the time the bed was dry. "Tell me when the bed is dry, FRIDAY."

"Okay." Came the chirpy voice from the ceiling.

"Is Bucky doing alright?" He asked as reheated a few leftover waffles from this morning.

"Sound asleep with no outward signs of nightmares and a dry bed."

"Great." He nodded, taking his waffles out of the microwave and already beginning to munch on the crispy edges from when it was first cooked.

He was too lazy for butter or syrup, only able to walk himself over to the couch and flick through channels until something other than a commercial was on.

He was tired, almost exhausted but not quite there. He didn't have a headache or heavy limbs, only droopy eyes. It was from messing up the sleep schedule he barely had. He'd stayed up well past midnight before to do paperwork mostly but this felt different. He thinks back on the last... two... three - he has no clue - days. He would try to do the math in his head but his was too sleepy.

"Fri, what time is it?"

"Eleven thirty-seven pm. The last you slept was on the couch with Mr. Barnes, he woke up at five seventeen pm and you woke up before him at twelve thirty pm." He took the hint and got up to go put his plate in the sink and shuffled quietly over to his room. He fell in bed cuddling close to the still sleeping Bucky. He immediately fell asleep.

-

Steve woke up again around noon, cursing himself and reaching over for his phone to text Sam that he was sorry for missing their morning run again.

Sam texted back a while later that it was fine, Steve promised to run with him tomorrow morning but he wasn't sure if he would wake up on time. It depended on Bucky. Steve enjoyed himself, loved the time with Bucky, wanted to take care of him when he was little. Bucky was probably denying that he was at least somewhat little. However, Steve could tell - based off the articles and things FRIDAY had told him. FRIDAY was the one that told him about little space and everything in the first place. She wouldn't have said anything if she wasn't very very sure.

Steve wanted to take care of him, be there for Bucky when he needed him. Little or not. He wants that trust from their old relationship back but he felt like it never left. Maybe Bucky wasn't aware that he could trust Steve but he fell into old habits.

Steve slipped out of bed, untangling and moving Bucky's arms and legs. He had to wiggle away from Bucky's tight arms around him. Bucky made cute little sleepy noises as he moved a bit to get comfortable in his sleep.

Steve left the door to his bedroom open, "Tell me again if anything happens with Bucky, FRIDAY."

"Of course." She said, then completely randomly: "I assumed you wanted me to wait until you woke up by yourself to inform you that Mr. Barnes' bed is dry."

"Yeah, thanks." He said once he was in the living room, walking over to the laundry room. He moved the clean sheets into the dryer and turned it on. "FRIDAY, does Bucky have any more sheets?"

"Yes, in his closet."

"Would it be wrong to - would he be mad if I went through his stuff?"

"It is your choice." The AI said, very unhelpfully.

Steve just shook his head, Bucky's had enough of having zero privacy, Steve wanted to ask before he went through his stuff. Even if it was just for sheets, it was still Bucky's stuff. He could just make the bed after the sheets finished drying.

Steve walks quietly as possible into his own room, taking a quick glance at Bucky. He was laying on the side of the bed Steve had been on, his arms mostly wrapped around a pillow and he was curled up with his knees close to his chest. He clutched a blanket in his hand and had the covers pulled up past his cheek. Steve took a minute to smile, Bucky had slept like that when they lived in Brooklyn. Steve had thought it was cute then. It's still cute now.

Steve went over to the night stand, the only light coming from the red glow of his alarm clock, and grabbed for his laptop blindly in the dark.

"How many sets of sheets does Bucky have?" He asked once he was sitting on the living room couch, already going to Amazon.

"Two, one is in the wash and the other is in his closet. They are both white, however there are no stains."

"Thanks FRIDAY."

Steve scrolled through Amazon for a while, looking at different brands of sheets and how many stars each one had. He eventually decided on a set of navy blue ones and another set of dark gray ones. They were made out of cotton and looked soft, the white ones Bucky had now felt scratchy like they were from a hotel. He wonders if that's where Bucky had got them from, stole them from one before he came to the tower. Steve's only been in two hotels so he wasn't really the person to ask about hotel sheets.

"I would recommend also purchasing a couple of mattress protectors for him too." FRIDAY added before he went to checkout.

"Uh... what's -"

FRIDAY opened another Amazon tab on his computer. It was an Amazon recommended mattress protector, he read through the reviews, not really getting why Bucky would need this. Then the description of it of it said it was waterproof. Oh.

He added two to the cart, along with the other two sets of sheets and bought the four items. They would arrive tomorrow.

His plan had been to make Bucky's bed (which he didn't end up doing), buy Bucky the sheets, make breakfast and do some of his paperwork. Now, after a while on the computer, he still felt heavy eyed. Even if it was twelve thirty in the afternoon.

"Is Bucky still asleep?"

"Yes," was the AI's immediate answer.

He walked back into his room and slipped back into bed with Bucky. Screw his sleep schedule.

Even if he only slept for another hour and a half, he felt better once he woke up and went to make breakfast.

-

Bucky woke up warm after his nightmare. Not the _I just wet the bed and woke up from it type of_ warm but _someone was laying with me_ type of warm. His hand immediately searched for Steve out of habit of sharing a bed all the time when they were younger and he blinked his eyes open a few times when he realized he wasn't there. Even though it was a disappointment waking up alone after having fallen asleep next to someone, Bucky smiled. Steve had seen that he wet the bed on multiple occasions, from the state his mattress was in. Steve had still let him sleep in his bed, and slept next to him at that. Even with the risk that Bucky would have an accident and get them both wet. Even just thinking about that made his smile short lived. Maybe it was pity or something along those lines. Bucky thought back to all the things Steve has done for him over the past few days. All the shit he put up with from Bucky and it's been just a few days. Oh god, how was Steve ever going to want him around anymore or -

"Morning," he said softly, as he opened the door. His eye caught the alarm clock on the nightstand. "Well, afternoon I guess." 2:37 pm.

Bucky just hummed. He squirmed a little in the bed, feeling the front of his pants and the sheets of the bed, reassuring himself that he was dry.

"How did you sleep."

Bucky steached, burying his face in the pillow for a moment, relaxing at the smell of Steve's shampoo there. He yawned, "Good." Then sat up, "Warm."

"I'm glad. You know, now we have a bit more to talk about, yeah?"

Bucky's frown was only visible on the two little creases in between his eyebrows, the rest of his emotions closed off now that he didn't feel much like a little kid.

"Do we have to?"

"Yep."

"Now?"

"I made breakfast, ah... lunch, I guess."

"What did you make?"

"French toast, with raspberries and blueberries."

Bucky had to admit, he was hungry, even if his stomach was a little shaky from his nightmare. He didn't want to talk about last night or anything.

"We have syrup."

He glanced around, shifting in the warm - not wet, he reassured himself - bed. "I'll be out in a minute."

-

"This one is a little off topic but the other day I didn't get to ask. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, it's fine. But, why were you afraid to go in the room by yourself?"

Bucky opened his mouth to apologize about that, it was a bad reaction on his part. He's usually able to control himself and hide outward reactions. Steve beat him to it.

"I'm sorry I made you almost cry by the way... if you wanna tell me so it doesn't happen again?"

"I, uh, I'm sorry about that." He said anyways.

"No, it's okay. I'm not irritated or anything, I just feel bad."

"Why?"

Steve frowned at him, " _Because_ ," he said, frustrated. It was familiar. When they would argue back in Brooklyn Steve would get that same note in his voice. Knowing that all he had to say was one word for his part of their argument. Now though, he explained. "What I asked made you remember something bad."

"I -" Bucky shook his head, shoving a piece of french toast in his mouth. He barely finished chewing it before another piece was being pushed into his mouth.

"Bucky Barnes," Steve said, making him jump, "don't you put anymore food in your mouth. Chew what you have."

Bucky did, avoiding eye contact and looking down at his plate. He chewed until the food was mush in his mouth and swallowed it slowly. He set the piece of French toast that had been in his hand down.

"You can't do that." Steve told him gently, "You're gonna make yourself sick or your gonna choke."

Bucky nodded, his cheeks flushing.

"So?" Steve asked.

"I don't know. It was just - Hydra, you know?"

"Yeah," Steve agreed, trying to get Bucky to continue, even though, no, he didn't know.

"They - when I wasn't on a mission or in cyro I would have to follow them around. And, I don't know, maybe it was a game or a test or - or - something."

"What was?"

"I'd be following them around and they'd ask me to go into the other room to grab them something. It was sort of a damned if you do, damned if you don't kind of thing."

Steve just nodded along, trying to show Bucky that he was listening.

"What do you mean?"

Bucky glanced up at him, keeping his head tilted down in mostly embarrassment. "I'd get in trouble if I left the room because I wasn't supposed to be by myself. Said I was unstable. Or I would get in trouble for not following an order. Either way."

"You know you won't get in trouble for anything like that here, right?"

He nodded slowly, he's been here for awhile now and has figured out nothing really leads to punishment. Sometimes he would forget. It was that side of him that was acting like a little kid, it was vulnerable and too open.

"What are you thinking?" Steve asked softly.

"I'm just sorry," he lied. Half lied, he hadn't been actively thinking about but he still felt sorry.

"For reacting?" Steve sounded confused.

"Yeah."

"Please don't be. It's totally fine." Steve said, taking another bite of his frech toast. Bucky assumed that meant it was okay for him to do that too, he reached onto his plate and grabbed the French toast. He took a smaller bite that he hoped Steve would approve of. Steve didn't say anything about it. "I don't want you to hide your reactions, it's just like the crying thing. You got to let yourself have that release of emotion."

Bucky nodded. "It doesn't make me feel good," he admitted stupidly. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I deserve it though. I did all these things and.. conquences, you know?"

"No, I don't. You don't deserve consequences for things you did while brainwashed and while being tortured and having your entire life taken away from you."

Bucky shrugged, hoping Steve would take another bite of his food so he could too. Bucky stared at the plate, maybe he could just... no... he had to wait until the appropriate time to eat. He was tempted, hungry but Steve would get worried again if he ate too fast.

"Eat if your hungry. No more than two bites at once though, okay?" Bucky hesitantly took a bite out of his French toast. "Two bites at most and you're fine."

They ate for a while more before Steve asked the question Bucky was dreading and was creating an awkward silence in the room.

"It's from the nightmares too, right?"

"What?" Play dumb and maybe he won't say anything more. But it was Steve. He didn't just go along with things.

"You wetting the bed."

Bucky flushed a dark red, "Uh.. you weren't supposed to find out about that."

"I feel like there was a lot of stuff that I wasn't supposed to find out about these past few days."

Bucky just nodded miserably, "It's supposed to be for me to deal with."

Steve shook his head, "You shouldn't deal with your feelings by ignoring them."

"It was working fine for a year until a few nights ago." Bucky defended, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"It wasn't working."

"Yes it was."

"Were you happy living like that?"

"I was functioning." He said and took another bite of his toast. A few days ago he wouldn't have even eaten breakfast, he didn't need it, only ate after missions or training. He set the toast down.

"Enough with that functioning bullshit. You aren't in Hydra and you know it. Here everyone cares about how you are feeling and they know that how you are feeling can affect everything."

"It doesn't."

"You don't sleep and you don't wake up at reasonable times. You're in your bedroom until twelve or one pm. Then you come out and just train. You barely eat and -"

"Okay," Bucky burst out, "I get it." His face was still flushed but now it looked angry instead of embarrassed.

Steve grabbed his glass of water and took a long drink. "Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way... No I know I am. I didn't mean to make you angry, I'm sorry."

Truth was, he wasn't. He was just embarrassed and the only way he knew how to cover it up and make people stop was anger. It had even worked on Steve, who seemed to know every one of his little tricks. Okay, maybe he was a bit angry.

Bucky wanted to tell Steve that he was right, that he was hurting and it was affecting him but he didn't want to just admit to it. So lying and anger was the only way to play it off.

"Whatever." He said barely blinking at Steve.

"I'm sorry. Just keep eating, I guess. We'll take later when you aren't so upset with me."

"I don't wanna." Bucky crossed his arms getting his sticky syrup fingers on the fabric of the shirt he threw on after waking up.

Steve frowned, "We'll worry about it later."

"No."

"You want to talk about it now?"

"No."

"Now or later."

"Later." Bucky said, then looked confused. "Wait... wait, no. I don' wanna at all."

"Naw, too late. You already said later."

"That's not fair."

"It's very fair."

"No," but Bucky giggled softly, blushing. With completely forgotten anger and embarrassment, Bucky said, "can we watch a movie if we talk? Like last time."

"Yeah, buddy, just eat for now."

"Alright," Bucky said, reaching for his French toast, still looking confused at his sudden change in emotions (and headspaces but Steve knew Bucky wouldn't admit that part) but content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you guys down for a Peter Parker & Bucky Barnes relationship in a few chapters? (no Peter is not little and no he will not figure out about bucky's little space in their first meeting. maybe not at all but if you guys really like him in the story then maybe.)


	6. Asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i had a whole chapter written (not this chapter) and I acccidently saved over it so all of it go deleted :/ i'm pretty irritated but what can you do? it doesnt matter all that much. it probably wasn't that good because i havent been able to be little for a while so... idk. anyways if updates are slow that's why. 
> 
> i'm just starting to rewrite that chapter now but i don't want to stress out about making it exactly the same as it was before otherwise it will definitely come out worse than before.

They ended up sitting on the couch again while Steve finished paperwork. Bucky wonder if Steve was always working. He frowned, Steve probably _was_ always working, always seemed stressed. He poked at Steve's shoulder.

"Hm?"

"Are you... how much do you work?"

"Uh, not too much."

"He brings paperwork home thirty-five hours a week on average. About five hours a day." FRIDAY supplied.

"That's too much." Bucky sounded pouty. "Do the other Avengers do that much?"

"It's not too much, most people work eight hours every day. I just work from home instead of going to SHIELD, that's all."

"You're always working late at night." Bucky argued, frowning.

"I only work late after a mission. It's fine. I'm almost done."

"How long is almost?"

Steve chuckled, "Fri, can you turn the TV on?"

"Yep." She said in that chirpy voice and the TV clicked on. She didn't ask what she was meant to play. The channel flicked from whatever channel Steve had left on last night to the kid's movie channel. The movie that was playing was in balck and white. Alice in Wonderland.

Bucky hit Steve's arm in excitement, "Stevie, Stevie, look."

Steve looked up and smiled before he even saw what was on TV. He hasn't seen this much expression from Bucky in a long time.

"I remember this." Bucky said, staring with wide eyes at the movie. "We want to see this with my sister... uh... Rebecca. We were... fifteen."

"I think you were sixteen."

"Okay, okay, I get it. Mr. Perfect Memory."

"No," Steve smiled, "Math. This came out in 1933 so you were sixteen."

"Then how do you remember  _that?"_

"I remember going."

Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned heavily on Steve, silent as the movie played and the pen Steve was writing with scratched against paper.

He doesn't remember falling asleep on Steve's shoulder. He remembers falling into a nightmare, remembers his hands shaking and bloody. He remembers screams and pleas that had been deaf to his ears before. He remembers trying to wake up when he remembered Steve was there but he couldn't and he was absolutely terrified. He knew what was going on around him but he couldn't open his eyes or move his body. He was back with Hydra and he was in cyro -

"Bucky," he heard someone say sternly. That's weird... the asset didnt have a name but Bucky - and that's right, he was dreaming not with Hydra. Steve was there and all he had to do was open his eyes.

Gray eyes shot open and his bladder almost gave out. He made this sound and jerked away from Steve because he was wet. He had pee soaking the front of his pants in the beginning of an accident. No, no, no, that was not happening. He couldn't feel any on the back of his pants so probably none got on the couch but still. He needed to go change and hide in his room for the rest of his life. No way Steve wasn't going to make fun of him now, actually seeing Bucky wet himself was different than just seeing the evidence of it.

"Bucky, hey -"

He was bolting out of the living room and into his bedroom. "Lock the door, FRIDAY." He said in an angry voice, just covering up fear. He was already tugging the sweats he was wearing off. The front of them had a wet patch by his right thigh. Just a little longer sleeping and he would have completely lost it and wet himself all over the couch.

"But, Mr. Barnes, Captain Rogers wants -"

"Lock the door." He said, throwing his pants onto the floor in the bathroom, his underwear following. He pinched his wrist until the embarrassed, angry, terrified tears faded away.

"Mr. Barnes -"

"Steve can't come in." Bucky interrupted, breathing harsh and shaky.

"He said that he'll be on the couch if you want to come back out and finish the movie." He shook his head fast, shutting his eyes and no, no tears dripped from his eyes. He was pinching the bruise on his wrist hard again and leaning against the shut and also locked bathroom door, as if trying to assure himself that Steve wasn't going to burst in and start making fun of him. Earlier he thought he could take that, maybe not. He wanted comforting arms and soft touches and hugs, but he wouldn't get that anymore. Not after his almost accident.

He tried to control his breathing so he didn't start sobbing but it was too much. He could only get lucky so many times and had been taking a chance sleeping around Steve so much. It was only a matter of time before he ended up having an accident, he was lucky that he barely leaked, only a small wet spot had been on his sweats.

"Can you 'art the shower?" He asked FRIDAY in a baby voice, as if he was completely incapable of doing it himself. He felt like he was.

"Of course, would you like a bath or shower?" She asked as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head and threw it onto the floor.

"Shower," he said with a small pout, wiggling a bit where he was standing. His bladder felt heavy and full inside him, especially after only releasing a little bit and from fear.

No further response and the shower stutter to a start, water spraying onto the floor of the bath, he felt his bladder spasm and rushed over to the toilet. Except... he couldn't go. His muscles were too tight with fear and it hurt. He wanted to cry.

"The shower is warm now."

He stepped in, bladder feeling all too full and the water streaming against his feet didn't help.

"You seem to still be in your headspace, are you sure you don't want Captain Rogers to come in here?"

"No," he shook his head and let his body under the spray of the shower, trying to relax his muscles but the thought of Steve coming in here and seeing him like this wasn't helping, "no, I'm okay. Not in a headspace."

"I'm fairly sure you are." She said, not offering to call Captain Rogers again because based on how he always reacted, that would result in an outburst.

"No I'm not." He said a bit annoyed, "Never been in a headspace before." Bucky said the last part with almost fake confusion in his voice. He wasn't little, especially not now.

"Okay, Mr. Barnes," And since when could an AI sound sarcastic? "Just finish your shower."

He stood under the spray of the shower for a while before his muscles finally gave and he was able to start peeing. He felt his knees go weak with finally releasing all the pressure in his abdomen. He wanted to cry again, of course he didn't, couldn't.

"Are you alright now, Mr. Barnes?"

He blushed beet red, apparently FRIDAY had known what was going on. He could only nod and try to avoid looking at the ceiling - even if there really wasn't anything there for him to look at. He reached for his shampoo bottle, and when FRIDAY asked him about the tears in his eyes, he bit out that he got shampoo in them.

-

Steve knocked on Bucky's door at five pm, an hour after he left for his shower. He wanted to make sure he was okay, he had left worked up and scared..

"Buck?" He said, leaning closer to the door. "You awake?"

"No," he whined. "Go 'way."

"Why?"

"Because."

"I wanna make sure that you're okay."

"Go away, I'm asleep."

"Well... when you're awake you better come out. We have to talk."

"Goodnight." Bucky called.

"Night," Steve frowned but called back.

Bucky found himself wanting to cuddle with Steve again, wanting gentle hands in his hair again. Instead he just sat there and let his thoughts spiral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do you guys feel about the length of the chapters? too long? too short?


	7. Spiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so i've been having lots of troubles going to into my headspace lately and it's been making me feel... bad. so tell me if my writing reflects that

Steve finished his paper work at ten. He tried to knock on Bucky's door again but this time didn't even get an answer. Maybe Bucky was sleeping. He hoped it was peaceful and nightmare free but he knew better.

He walked into his room and got ready for bed, slipping into sweats and a white tshirt. He saw a note on his bed - which he noticed Bucky had made before he came out to eat after he woke up - written on a green post-it note in Bucky's perfect handwriting. It had been like that before the war too but when he got back from Hydra he had a lot of trouble writing. His hand would shake and he would get frustrated and throw the pencil. Apparently he had been practicing.

_I'm sorry all this, thanks for being so nice about it all. I feel bad that I kind of stole your bed last night. I just wanted to tell you that I can deal with all of this by myself, I really am okay. I think I deal with my feelings and shit fine. I'll see you later._  
_\- Bucky_

Steve blinked and reread the note a few times. "When did he leave this?" He asked FRIDAY.

"About an hour ago."

Steve nodded, he hadn't even heard Bucky leave his room. He took a moment to remember that Bucky could be completely silent if he wanted to.

"Is he okay?"

"That's more of a question for him to answer."

"So no?"

"He seems to be fine at the moment." 

"What's he doing?"

"Sleeping." 

Steve nodded, letting his shoulders relax as he stuck the note on the surface of his nightstand and slipped into bed.

"If he wakes up from a nightmare tell him that he can wake me up if or he can just come in and lay down."

"Of course," FRIDAY said, switching the light off for Steve who was already sleeping the second his body flopped onto the bed. 

- 

Bucky woke up to his own screaming. It's been a while since he's done that. He hoped the soundproofing that Tony has in would work. No reason from him to wake up Steve like that when he literally just left him a note telling him that he was okay. But he was okay. 

He could deal. All this was so normal now. The nightmares, the gasping breaths, the unshed tears, the screaming, the memories, the wet sheets.

"I'm going to call Captain Rogers," FRIDAY told Bucky, who hasn't moved for seven minutes and fifteen seconds other than shaking and shivering.

"No," he suddenly bolted up when he registered what she had said, it had taken him a few long seconds. "I'm fine FRIDAY, don't call him." 

"But Mr. Barnes -"

"Don't. I've got this."

"Okay." She said, "Then I recommend you get up and clean so the bed doesn't stain." 

Bucky sighed, absolutely defeated. If there wasn't the threat of FRIDAY calling Steve and him having to bother Steve again - after the last few days - he would have laid here and stared up at the ceiling for a lot longer. There was no point in getting up to clean this. His stomach twisted and he stood up on shaky legs. 

"Mr. Barnes, your nightmare seems to be affecting you mentally as well as physically. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to call Captain Rogers, I'm sure he would be more than happy and willing to help you clean up."

"No," he bit out, voice sounding pouty and scared. "Please don't. I'm fine. Physically and mentally, I'm fine." He tried to convince himself more than FRIDAY, who knows how much she knew about human emotions or of he was okay or not. He thinks that he was doing a pretty bad job at hiding it, but she said a quick, "okay," and instructed him on what to do. 

He ended up cleaning up in the shower, still shaking and crying under the cold stream of water he insisted to use after the scalding hot water just making him want to cry. Not from pain, just not shocking enough sensation to make him feel grounded. Then pulling the sheets off the bed and throwing them into a pile on the floor. He slipped clean clothes on and took the wet sheets and pants out though the living room and to the washing machine. He shoved everything into the washing machine and FRIDAY started it for him as she told him where Steve had left the hydrogen peroxide mix to clean his bed.

"He clean the stains on my bed _and_ made it last night?" Bucky muttered, shocked. 

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I didn't ask." 

"Oh."

FRIDAY told him not to worry too much about it, it wasn't a bad thing and suggested that he wait to go back to sleep.

"Why?" 

"Your bed it still wet from cleaning it, but it should be dry very soon. Your sheets are also still washing and you should wait so you can put them into the dryer so they will dry by morning."

Bucky nodded, wandering into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He was still a little shaky from his nightmare and water usually helped.

-

Bucky ended up in the gym a few floors up, he had already asked FRIDAY if there was anyone up there. She had told him no and he rushed into the elevator.

He broke three punching bags, currently working on his fourth. He ended up sweating through his shirt, having completely forgotten to take it off after he hung up the punching bag. 

"God fucking -" he pulled and twisted to get his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor. 

He got right back to beating up that bag. Panting hard with his hair stuck to his face, it was definitely a sight to see. 

He punched through the fourth bag and immediately went to hang up a fifth. His flesh arm felt heavier than his metal one, his chest hurt and his heart was pounding. 

His human arm shook when he hung up the sixth bag. He was ready to do this until he dropped, like some kind of punishment. He shouldn't have ever agreed to go sit on the stupid couch with Steve, he should have just said he was tired and went back to his room. 

He wouldn't have opened up like that and told Steve things he was supposed to be dealing with himself. The accidents, the nightmares - he shouldn't be troubling Steve with those. He didn't need Steve to take care of him like he was a baby, he had practically forced Steve to also. He kept going back out into the living room and Steve kept helping and helping. He worried Steve to the point where he thought he had to take care of Bucky. 

The sixth punching bag broke right off the ceiling, it startled Bucky more than surprised him. Before he could pick it up to hang up a new one, he heard a voice. "You okay there, Barnes?" He almost jumped out of his skin, so much for enhanced hearing or whatever it was called.

"What do you want, Natalia?" 

"I go by Natasha now." 

"What do you want?" He hopes that if he sounded irritated enough, she would just leave. She didn't. She was just as stubborn as Steve.

"You look mad." 

"I'm not."

He turned back to his punching bag and hoped she would get the message to leave, he didn't want to talk about this. He began punching again, the painful weight came back in his right arm and shoulders. His metal arm felt heavier than usual. Kind of like when he first got it and he couldn't balance himself. He remembers they would yank on his right arm whenever his new metal arm would send him off balance. They had dislocated his shoulder multiple times. 

"Who are you mad at?" Natalia asked after Bucky grunted in pain at a punch.

"Nobody." He said, not really lying. He was really just mad with himself. 

The punching bag broke, spilling sand everywhere. "Goddamnit -"

"Mm, did Steve do something?" She muttered. 

"- these damn things." Bucky was muttering under his breath, ignoring Natalia.

"James," She said, voice still monotone and uncaring. 

"That's not my name." 

"My name isn't Natalia and you still insist on calling me it." 

Bucky grunted, looking at the ground guilty. "I'm sorry, Natasha." 

She only hummed, "So, what did Steve do?" 

"Nothin'." 

"Then who are you mad at?" 

"No one, I'm just training." 

"You know... you're the one that taught me to lie." 

"Ah, think you know everything about me then?" God, why can't she just leave? "That was back when I didn't... didn't _feel_ anything."

"So what... you're recovered after a year?" 

"Yep." 

"After a year of excluding yourself from everyone and not going to therapy?" 

"My trigger words are out of my head, I can work the rest out."

"So you haven't yet?" 

He stayed silent. 

"That's why you're down here, punching your feelings out and hurting yourself?" 

"I'm not hurting -" 

"I'm gonna touch you," she warned before digging her fingers into the muscle on his right shoulder, right under the blade. It hurt, he knew his muscles were overworked and tired, in need of rest to repair themselves. However much it hurt him, the only reaction that slipped passed was his face twitched. "Doesn't hurt?" She asked.

No answer again. 

"You should take care of yourself more."

"I think I'm doing fine. I eat more than I did when I got here and I can stand on my own now." Bucky remembers being so wobbly from the pain meds Bruce had kept him on. He had to work on Bucky's arm to avoid further damage before they took him to Wakanda. They hadn't found the right dosage to knock him out completely so Bruce just doped him up to mute most of the pain from the damaged arm.

"What about mentally? You know everyone on this team goes to therapy at least once a month. Steve goes every other week. He should really go more but he's stubborn. But he still goes... you refuse."

"I don't need it."

"You should spend time with the team more." 

He knew just because she changed the topic doesn't mean he won. He may not remember much of her other than flashes of red hair and a knowing smirk that went along with a blank face from their time in the Red Room. That doesn't mean he couldn't tell. She had this commanding vibe coming from her, challenging you to prove her wrong. Bucky wasn't in the mood so he just went along. 

"Why? I'm pretty sure they don't want to see me."

"You should come to movie night with Steve." she repeated.

"I'm pretty sure he is fine without me going." 

"He hates those things."

Bucky was a little shocked, Steve always goes to movie nights with the team. 

"He won't say it though," she continued, "I think he feels like he has to go."

"Why?" 

She just shrugged. "Maybe he wants to actually  _try_ and be close to the people that he fights alongside. Maybe he just doesn't want to be by himself all the time. Maybe he -"

Bucky felt guilty for that one. Steve has worked so hard to find him, help him, to get his best friend back, and Bucky isn't even making an effort. 

"I'll think about it." He interrupted her, it was hard to listen to her spill out everything in front of him like this. He's okay at hiding how he feels but when other people pick up on it like that, it's hard to pretend.

"It's tonight at ten pm. We usually end up falling asleep on the couch so wear something comfortable."

He wonders if Steve enjoyed watching movies with him. Probably not. Bucky had been stupid to think that he would. If he doesn't enjoy doing it with his his actual friends then how would he enjoy with a forgotten friend that makes no effort?

He told Natasha that he was going to shower and go back to bed, she finally left. 

He hung up another punching bag.

-

Bucky woke up nightmare free - well maybe it's just because he didn't remember it. He had worked himself until he literally couldn't stand anymore. His muscles were aching and all of the sudden he couldn't support himself and he was dizzy. FRIDAY had recommend he drink some water and shower but he couldn't even keep his eyes open on the elevator ride back to his and Steve's floor. He collapsed on top of his unmade bed, not even bothering to check if it was dry yet or to move his sheets from the washer to the dryer.

It was probably a bad idea to sleep on the bed without any protection for the mattress from his accidents but he was really too tired to care.

Bucky had woken up cold and damp from sweat but he hadn't had another accident so that was good. He rolled over onto his back from how he was laying on his stomach. His eyes still felt heavy and his shoulders had a dull ache left in them, flesh one tired and metal on awkward and bulky all of the sudden.

His foot accidentally kicked something at the end of his bed. It was cold and felt like a box. It was. A boring brown box from Amazon sat at the end of his bed, obviously there for him to see right when he woke up. 

On top of the box was the sheets he had wet last night, dry and folded even though he had left them wet in the washer. He knew it was Steve. Only made him feel more guilty that Steve was feeling this obligated to help him. He moved over to grab the box and put it on the floor so he could make his bed. He noticed the note he had wrote Steve last night stuck on top of the sheets. The pencil he had wrote in was written over in balck pen. 

_"the thing is you don't have to" - Bucky Barnes October 18th, 1936_ was written over the part where he said he could deal with his feelings by himself. It was obviously Steve's handwriting. He knew Steve's handwriting; messy and more scribbles than actual letters. He remembers making fun of Steve for it when they were younger. 

_"Such an amazing artist but you've got such shit handwriting. How can you even read this?"_

_"Shut up, you Jerk, I can read it just fine."_

Bucky frowned at the note, then shook his head. He moved the folded sheets off the top of the box and peeled the tape off as best he could. He was more curious to know what was in the box now than making the bed. 

Bucky was kind of shocked, inside the box were two new sets of sheets, a lot nicer looking than the ones he had. There was also two waterproof mattress protectors sitting next to the two sets of sheets. He blushed at that. Couldn't even accept the fact that he probably needed to put them on his bed because he wet it all the time. 

He decided not to make his bed yet, too much pride to actually admit anything like that. Putting that mattress protector on his bed felt like admitting it. He thought he had been doing a pretty good job at ignoring everything. 

His throat and mouth felt dry, his stomach was empty and his muscles felt sluggish. He decided not to make his bed just yet, just go out and get breakfast. He had to convince Steve that he was fine, and putting that mattress protector on his bed would say just the opposite.

Steve smiled warmly at him again, not mentioning anything about the folded sheets or the note or what was in the box. Steve just made small talk about the latest annoying thing Tony has done. Bucky did his best to smile and laugh along, adding in his own little side comments when he thought necessary. Keeping up conversation like that while he heated up the Eggo waffles in the toaster left him more tired than when he woke up. 

It's not that he didn't want to talk to Steve, he really wanted to know how his friend was doing and about the other people in his life. It was just hard to pretend sometimes. Not everything is about him though, Steve has a life too. He has a life outside of Bucky and their floor on the tower. He has other friends and interests, and Bucky wants to know about them, but he is sleepy and pretending he is okay is taking a lot of energy out of him. He shouldn't have to pretend. He is fine, he's out of Hydra's control, Steve and his friends took care of all the bases. He's had the trigger words removed, he doesn't have to be the Winter Soldier anymore and he isn't. He's had a year to forget everything that's happened to him and somehow find a way to come to terms with all the people that he killed, but he hasn't. He should have but he hasn't. He's not sure if he ever will but as long as he can pretend. 

Thankfully, conversation slowed when he started eating. He pulled the waffles right out of the toaster and bit into them. 

"You don't want syrup?" Steve asked standing up and reaching into the cabinet before Bucky even answered. 

He handed Bucky a glass plate and syrup. He offered the most genuine smile he could back, hesitantly squeezing syrup into his waffles. 

"Steve," he muttered around a bite of food.

"Mm," Steve hummed and held up a finger, then finished chewing what he had in his mouth. "Yeah?" 

"Uh - Natasha thinks that I -" he shoved a few bites of waffles in his mouth. "She think I should go watch those stupid movies with you guys tonight." 

Steve chuckled but his smile was hopeful, "You want to? You're more than welcome." 

"I don't know if they would want me there. I mean... I'm not really part of the team."

"Not unless everyone makes the effort. Including you."

"Would they even want - no... I don't know why I brought this up. It was dumb, of course they wouldn't. Not after I -"

"Bucky, Bucky, shh. Slow down. Okay? Did you hear what I said?" Bucky shook his head rapidly, Steve wasn't sure if he was answering to what he had ask or trying to shake himself out of whatever downward spiral he was in. "If you want to put in effort too, I'm sure they are willing. Okay?"

Bucky shook his head again, looking down at his food and stabbing his waffles with a fork. "Nevermind." 

"Buck -"

"Nevermind." 

"Why?" 

"I just..."

"The only way for you to start feeling better is to talk." 

"I'm fine." 

"Mm," Steve sounded disbelieving.

"I am." Bucky insisted. 

"Okay, I heard you the first time," Steve sounded smug, and damn him.

Bucky just grumbled and took another bite of waffles. "I am fine." 

"You know.. I don't really believe you." 

"Why?" Bucky pouted and Steve smiled at him again with that smile.

"You're adorable." 

"I am not." And Bucky did _not_ stomp his foot and cross his arms. Steve had a smirk on his face that made Bucky blush. 

"So," Steve started, staring at Bucky who had his arms still cross and his face still pouty. "Why don't you think the others won't like you?" 

"S'not that. I just don't think they are gonna want to be friends with a murder." 

Steve's face twitched into something real serious and dark. "Everyone here has killed at least one person. Except for that kid Tony keeps around."

"That Parker kid?" Because why would a little intern have...

"Yeah, Spider-man." 

"That kid is Spider-man?"

"Yeah, Tony thinks we don't know."

"I didn't know." Bucky frowned. That was kind of dumb. Have someone roaming around that he didn't know. No idea who they were or what they could do.

"Oh, relax. You've seen him, what... once?"

"Twice. Once when I first go here and was still bouncing between my bed and a hospital bed. He was helping Stark with something for my arm I think. The other was when I was going to train, I passed by him. You're - You're telling me that kid is Spider-Man?"

"Yep." 

"I fought him. At the airport." Bucky looked terrified, "In Germany." 

"Yeah." Steve nodded. 

"He - He's a kid." 

Steve nodded, "It's alright." 

"What -"

"There's no hard feelings from him. Even if he won't tell us he's Spider-Man, he comes to movie night sometimes."

"Oh."

"You should come to movie night." And that was the end of the conversation. 

-

Bucky jumped when FRIDAY talked. He had been reading, very peacefully sitting with his eyes staring intently at the pages. He was completely lost in the book that he totally didn't steal for a store when he was in Bucharest. It was in Romanian but he read it easily enough.

"Mr. Barnes."

He almost threw his book. 

"Yes FRIDAY?"

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You didn't." 

"Captain Rogers would like to know if you will be joining him and the others for movie night." 

"Uh..."

"He is just getting ready to leave now, you have fifteen minutes to decide. He is leaving at nine forty-five."

"Oh... uh, yeah, alright. I'll think about it."

He is not going to go. No matter what bull that Steve fed him about equal effort, he knew it wasn't true. How could any of them want to spend any unnecessary time with him after... everything. He also knew that no matter if he went or not, Steve wouldn't enjoy his time there.

He went back to reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so, really important question. I kind of left the ending open a bit by saying that bucky's has fifteen minutes until steve is leaving. 
> 
> so, that being said, would you guys like a movie night chapter with just a small intro of all the charecters? i was setting up for that but if no one wants it then oth well
> 
> another question: does cursing in this particular story make you uncomfortable?


	8. Tense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i can say is sorry for not updating, haven't been in a good mental place lately but that really isn't an excuse to stop everything going on in my life. 
> 
> **timeline:**  
>  \- everything up until civil war is the same  
> \- after civil war, everything smooths over and the accords are forgotten  
> \- they take bucky in and tony fixes his arm and then he goes to wakanda to get the trigger words out of his head  
> \- spider-man homecoming still happens  
> \- thor: ragarnock still happens  
> \- NO infinity war or endgame  
> \- thor still gets a new eye from rocket but not through infinity war. thor is friends with the gardians before infinity war. they helped asguard get to earth  
> \- loki is alive and things with him and strange eventually smoothed over so he can be in earth  
> (don't question the timeline too much) (i'm not sure how much thor will actually be in this idk why but i feel like i can never write him well enough :/)

This time, Bucky did not jump at the next noise. He wasn't as involved with his book as he was before, not after FRIDAY had scared him. Now his mind was only half paying attention to the book he was reading. Given that it was in another language, he would probably end up having to put it down and picking it back up tomorrow. It's not that his heart was still pounding and he was paranoid about every single sound around him, it was just that he felt too aware of his surroundings. Every noise, every flash of light drew his attention. It was too loud in the quiet so of course his mind was paying attention to that. Now, even the little dust particles in the light were distracting him. He shut his book and took a few moments to try and think up of something to do.

He just glanced up at the door when there was a knock.

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming?"

He could play stupid, soften the blow to Steve that he was not going to the movie night.

Bucky stayed quiet, not really able to think about a way to lie.

"Why not?" Steve asked when the answer was obvious after a stretch of silence.

"Because." Steve could imagine Bucky crossing his arms over his chest and pouting right about now.

"Because?" He prompted, voice rising in question.

"I can't." Definitely pouting, Steve decided.

"All you have to do is stand up and walk out the door."

"That's not -" Bucky was quiet for a second. "They're not gonna want to see me."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"I'm not going."

This time it was Steve that didn't answer. Bucky thought he really messed up. Thought that Steve had finally given up, and that is what he had wanted. He wanted to be left alone to deal with everything. He could deal with everything, he didn't need to give Steve that job. They were his problems. So his chest shouldn't be filling with this weight at the thought of Steve leaving again. He shouldn't be in his early twenties again, leaving Steve for the army. Even if that had been different. He hadn't given up on Steve then. He had been forced to leave. It was still the same feeling. Loss. It was almost like water. He could feel water in his lungs like that time he had fallen into a river with Steve and knocked himself out. He couldn't breath.

Not until Steve spoke again a few seconds later: "I'm coming in."

Steve waited a few beats before opening the door, giving Bucky the chance to say no. Bucky watched helplessly as the door knob turned and Steve was there.

"Get dressed. You're gonna go."

"Why, I don't want to."

"You just don't want to face things that happened." Steve knew that this was guilt. Bucky didn't want to face the things he did, even if it was by force. Maybe Bucky was still ashamed that he did them. He had pointed out earlier that he remembered that Tony didn't care that he had been brainwashed. Steve knew that was part of Bucky's problem, he refused to believe that he had been forced to do all those bad terrible things. That he was a victim. "Things that you didn't do by choice. Things that they will forgive you for."

"How do you know?"

"Just a guess."

"Steve I can't -"

"Sometimes they wonder if you still live here."

"I - I... What?"

"They'll ask me why you don't come."

"Steve don't lie to -"

"I don't lie to you, Bucky." Steve had that determined look on his face, as if he could convince Bucky to forget all his troubles with a few words.

"I still can't go."

"Why?"

"How do you know that everyone there will be okay with me? I've - I've done a lot of things."

Steve didn't try to convince him otherwise, knew it would probably start an argument and make Bucky upset. Steve didn't really know how to go about any of this.

"Even Tony said it was okay." He decided on reassurance. "I asked him earlier, after you brought it up."

"I shouldn't have brought it up," Bucky said apologetically. He should have thought before mentioning what Natasha had suggested to him. He knew movie night was a bad idea and he had known Steve would think that it was a good idea. He could have saved Steve further disappointment if he had thought before he spoke and then didn't at all.

"I should have made you come a lot sooner." Steve sounded apologetic too. Bucky had no idea why he would.

"No."

"You can't feel better if you hide from everyone."

Bucky scoffed but he thinks Steve could see though his fake anger. "Have you and Natasha been talking?"

"No." Steve couldn't help a small chuckle, despite none of this actually being funny. "Now get dressed."

"I made her into what she is." Bucky said quietly, "I trained her - a kid - to hurt people, to murder, to -"

"I doubt she has hard feelings about that but that is a conversation for the two of you to have."

"What about Stark?"

"What about him?"

"How do you know he wants me there?"

"He said it was okay."

"But did he ever actually ask if I was coming?"

"Once."

"I killed his parents." Bucky's voice was quiet still. "I don't think he would want to see me after that. Then there was a whole - whole - what did you guys call it? Civil War."

"You weren't the only cause for that. I wouldn't have signed the Accords no matter if you were involved or not."

"I killed his mom, his - his dad... I killed Howard Stark, our friend." Bucky's voice was rising. "I took his parents away from him, that's not something you just recover from. Let alone with the person that did it."

"You fight side by side with him" Steve's voice stayed calm. "You remember that mission where it was me, you, Tony, Nat and Clint? The two of you were fine. I'm sure he is willing to forgive and forget."

"He didn't want to be there."

"He never does. I'm sure you two can talk."

"I don't think so."

"How would you know? The only time you talk to him is for missions. You've said about four words to him since you came here."

"He said it himself when we were fighting. He said that he didn't care that -" his voice cracked, "that I was under Hydra's control... or however you had phrased it. He didn't care. All he cared about is that I killed his mother. I killed his parents, Steve. How you would feel if I killed your mom?"

"It wasn't you, Bucky."

"How would you feel of the Winter Soldier killed your mom? Fucking happy and ready for friendship?"

"It would take some talking out but -"

"No, Steve." Bucky grumbled and tried to turn away, hoping Steve would see that as the end of this conversation and just go to the stupid movie night without him.

"Get up." He poked Bucky's shoulder once, twice, when he didn't answer.

"Why?"

"I'm not letting you sit here in... in your own pity for the rest of the night. We are going to go up to the common floor and watch a movie. I'm sure you'll have fun, if not, you can leave after the first one."

Bucky blinked a few times. "What about Ton -"

"You can worry about that tomorrow. If it is obvious that he is still mad with you and ready to kill you, then you don't have to talk to him." Steve stared at him expectantly, "Okay?"

Bucky weighed his options. He could stay here, listen to Steve try to convince him more. He knew Steve was trying to help - that's all Steve ever seemed to want to do. And here he was, after all of Steve's help and effort, still sitting and pouting like a baby.

"Okay." He thinks it would be less effort for both of them if he just went.

"You can't ignore everything just because you think people are mad at you. I know it isn't going to be just an apology and everything is okay sometimes. But talking it over always helps."

"Natasha said that you've been going to therapy." Steve sounded like Sam had when they had been trying to get answers out of him.

"Uh, yeah. She's been making me."

"Sounds like it helps?"

"Yeah," Steve said, not even attempting to tell Bucky that he should be going too. He knew that would only make Bucky more upset, he thinks he really is to blame for everything. Steve really hopes today can help start to change that. He feels way too dumb for not trying this way sooner, it was ignorant on his part to think that it was okay to leave Bucky alone like that. Maybe Bucky would already be somewhat okay if he had said something _a lot_ sooner. Most times people needed that push. They needed a reason to think it wasn't their fault, than therapy and friendship would make them understand why it wasn't their fault and how to cope with it.

First, Steve was to blame for Bucky even being captured by Hydra and now he was one of the reasons Bucky still thought he was he was the one that did something wrong. Steve knew the first part of that was something to bring up in his own therapy because everyone insisted that the fall wasn't his fault. But this wasn't about him right now, he had already messed up and now he had to make it better. Bucky couldn't live like this, he wasn't either. He was hiding out all the time.

Bucky stared up at Steve and slowly closed his book. Steve smiled, "What do you want to wear? It's just comfy clothes." Steve gestured down to himself, dark blue sweatpants, a white shirt and socks.

"You choose." He muttered weakly, looking down embarrassed. He didn't want to somehow choose the wrong clothes.

Steve asked which his pajama drawer was and pulled out the first pair of sweats and the first shirt. He walked back to the bed where Bucky was still sitting and staring.

"Up up." Steve said, reaching for his hand and pulling him up when Bucky took it.

"You need me to get you dressed?" He asked when Bucky still didn't take the offered clothes.

Bucky's face flushed and he looked down at the ground. Steve took it as a yes.

"Arms up." Steve said after he set the clothes on the bed so his hands were free. He wasn't sure if Bucky would be cooperative because Steve had offered to dress him instead of Bucky having to ask or be resistive from embarrassment. Bucky didn't lift his arms but he didn't fight when Steve grabbed both his wrists and begun to lift them. Bucky finished the motion by himself when Steve left go to pull the tight shirt he was wearing off. He replaced it with a shirt that was the same color but looser.

Steve quickly undid his belt and pulled it out of the loops, setting it on the bed along with the discarded shirt.

"Are you wearing underwear?" He asked before undoing the button on Bucky's pants.

"Yes," Bucky bit out, sounding irritated that Steve would even ask such a question.

"Okay, okay," Steve chuckled, "I just wanna make sure." Then he undid the button and pulled the skinny jeans down in one motion. He had to maneuver Bucky's legs to actually get them off his ankles and Bucky was no help with that. Bucky ended up almost losing his balance and having to catch himself with his hands on Steve's shoulders. He made his terrified noise and jerked his metal one as far away from Steve as he could get it.

Steve glanced up at him from where he was crouched on the floor. Bucky was already spilling apologies out for hurting him. Steve just reached up for the offending arm and pulled it back to his shoulder. "You didn't hurt me, I think you have more control over that arm than you think because it felt the same as the right one." Bucky shook his head, and went to pull his arm again. Before he could Steve grabbed his other ankle and lifted it off the floor. He pulled the pants off from around it and quickly let it fall back onto the floor.

They repeated the same process for putting his sweats on: Steve told Bucky that his metal arm was fine - "I will say _ow_ before you break my shoulder." - and Bucky just stood there with his hands braced on Steve's shoulders. Then, Steve sat Bucky down on the bed - why he didn't do that before was beyond Bucky. Steve had thought of it once he almost fell but thought it was a good idea, based on Bucky's reaction when he touched Steve, for Bucky to see that that metal arm wasn't going to hurt someone unless Bucky wanted it to.

"Why are all your socks mix matched?"

Bucky laughed and his cheeks heated up more, "I get lazy looking for the matches."

Steve laughed too and just grabbed a pair. When he unbundled them, they were two different lengths. When he put them on one stopped below Bucky's ankle and the other went way above it. "You are too much." He said, patting Bucky's thigh and standing up. "C'mon."

-

Bucky almost started crying when the elevator started moving. He gripped onto Steve's hand tight, he didn't even remember grabbing it. His metal one covered his mouth as if that would stop him from acknowledging what has him so worked up.

"Are we gonna sleep on the couch. Cause Natal - Natasha said something about that - and she - I can't - I -"

Steve looked over at him, then connected two and two in his head. Just the other night Bucky had fallen asleep on the couch and it ended badly for him. Steve took a moment to remind himself that they still needed to talk about that, the list of things they needed to talk about just kept getting longer and longer.

"Nope," and he could see the tension in Bucky drain right away. "No, we can go back up once you start getting tired."

"Thank you."

"Mhm, now wipe your eyes. They're red."

"I wasn't cryin'." Bucy stated, even as he wiped his eyes.

"I know, but tears made your eyes red. It's fine, they're all gone now."

The elevator started moving again. That's when he realized that FRIDAY had stopped it between floors so he could pull himself together. He blushed at that.

He blushed harder when the door to the elevator opened. That was when the nerves of the whole thing made him want to tell FRIDAY to close these elevator door and take him right back up to his floor. His floor was safe. His floor, he had a way to go hide, he knew where everything was. The only thing he knew about this floor was that there was a living room at the entrance from the elevator and he could see a kitchen off to the left and a long dark hallway to the right. He knew everyone, including himself and Steve had a second bedroom on this floor. He knows he's never been in that bedroom and has no idea where it is.

The new nerves weren't even from the fact that he's done some terrible things to probably everyone in this room. He was feeling afraid to face all that, but that wasn't new. He realized that he was afraid of talking to them, afriad of what they would think of him when he wasn't the Winter Solider. Then, they had a reason to fear him. Now, who knows what they'll do, what they'll think. Bucky didn't know how to start conversation, how to talk to people other than Steve. By now it was easy to talk to Steve, they've known eachother for so long. But now, sitting here with people that know him as Captain America's friend, a soldier in WWII, the man who has killed for Hydra - the very thing he had "died" fighting for - for lifetimes. They couldn't have a very good image of him. And of course they were going to ask questions about... about everything. Questions he has been avoiding for a year, questions that he didn't want to answer, questions he hasn't thought about or dwelled over. He was going to say something dumb, or make everything awkward or both. Then no one would know what to say or do but ask more questions and Bucky wasn't ready for the first set of questions. He wasn't even -

Steve stepped out of the elevator, still gripping Bucky's hand, so Bucky had to follow instead of stay in the elevator.

"Hey guys," Steve said, immediately pulling Bucky towards the more empty couch.

Stark sat on the crowded couch, that Parker kid sat in between him and Dr. Banner. Clint sat squished on the opposite side of the couchas Stark. They had their backs turned to the entrance.

Natasha sat alone on the other couch, facing the entrance more. She saw him and immediately smiled.

They sat down and Steve let go of his hand. Bucky ignored the urge to scoot closer to Steve than he already was, hide his face in Steve's arm or something dumb like that. If he couldn't see them, they couldn't see him and Steve would keep him safe. "Hey you two." She said, catching everyone's attention.

Everyone else got over their shock of actually seeing Bucky here in less than a second. Dr. Banner and Clint smiled, Stark tried to and Parker looked confused. Clint gave the same kind of smile as Natasha did, Bruce offered a quick smile and went back to his book.

Bucky's met all of them before - some under bad circumstances. Clint had been in their side so maybe he was okay. He wondered how Clint got so close with Stark and Parker - since the kid who look about fifteen had apparently fought him. He wondered how Steve had got so close to them also. He definitely missed a lot when he was in Wakanda. He wonders if things would have turned out how they did for Steve and Clint if he had been thrown into the mix of the Avengers becoming friends again. Probably not, could have just lead to more fighting. Even if there hadn't been one in a long time, he knew that certain things still lead to fights.

Everyone had been chatting when they got here and now his presence sent everything to a cautious silence.

"So, Dracula," Tony spoke up, seeming to be the one that could not handle awkward silence. He seemed like the type to talk a lot. Bucky frowned at the comment but no one seemed bothered by it. He knew nicknames were a thing for Tony but he immediately decided that he didn't like them. Not that he would say anything. "What made you decide to finally show your face in the light of day?" Tony asked, watching the Parker kid scroll through comedy movies on Netflix. Bucky was grateful, he had himself convinced that they were going to watch a horror movie. Everyone on here is so badass, why wouldn't they want to watch horror movies? He doesn't think he would have been able to handle one.

"I - um."

"Tony." Natasha and Bruce said almost at the same time.

"I mean look at him. He's in all black and paler than Stars and Stripes sitting next to him."

"C'mon, Tony." Steve spoke up next to Bucky, "We're here to watch movies, not make fun of everyone in the room."

"Maybe it was all your time in the ice that made you so pale, Queen Elsa." Stark shot right away, leaning against the couch and not even looking at Steve. Steve didn't even react, just leaned against the back of the couch.

Bucky felt himself panicking again. He knew he was right, his presence would only lead to fighting. It already had.

Bucky thought he was over jumping at loud noises today, having been over alert after FRIDAY scaring him earlier. That rush had seemed to be replaced by this fear.

Bucky jumped when the loud introduction music of whatever movie that Parker kid chose started playing.

-

Bucky spent the first half of the movie worrying over Stark. He knew that he wouldn't be getting a second chance. He killed the man's parents, there was no reason for him to be here right now. Intruding in Stark's home and in his personal time with his friends. His thoughts had gone so out of control, he almost shot up in the middle of the movie and ran away. Not just back up to his room - well, yes first to his room. Then he would grab his emergency bag and run. He'd be gone with no trace and Stark and Steve would never have to deal with him again.

Then he'd started to wonder where he would go if he ran. He knew this world was so big, so much bigger than his small floor on the tower and a lot smaller than his apartment had been back in Romania. Thinking about running away in terms like that, he wondered where he could go. He wonders if someone - one tiny person in this sea of everyone else - would be able to even be able to make it. He had before but now the thought made him feel sick.

He let himself slump against Steve, wishing the other would play with his hair but knowing he didn't deserve that right now. Not after the argument he caused between Steve and Stark. He also knew that would put him to sleep after a while if not right away. Sleep was not a good idea in front of everyone. Not with what it could result in. He's gone weeks without sleep before, staying awake for less than two hours or so was easy. Bucky wasn't really tired in the first place.

He was too worked up to sleep. He wants to leave. He wanted to go beat up some punching bags right now. He needed to get rid of this energy.

Steve, of course, on edge with everyone else noticed. On edge wasn't the right way to say it. He was just trying to get through this movie night. It was so tense with no one knowing how to act around Bucky. He hated it. He wanted his friends to get along.

-

The movie drug on forever, it hadn't even been funny. That or it was too uptight in the room.

Eventually Clint started making jokes that were even worse than the ones in the movie. It made them funnier, even if they were forced. Parker made a few jokes along with Clint and Bucky could tell he was the type to talk a lot. He immediately felt bad, he could remember being that fidgety talkative kid. He was turning that off in the Parker kid, he knew not forever - that would be ridiculous. He was just making everyone uncomfortable.

Even if they were trying to hide it. He could hear though Clint's jokes, see Parker casting glances around the room, feel Natasha's silence next to him, feel Stark casting him glances. The only person that wasn't affected was Dr. Banner because he was so wrapped up in his book. Even Steve was real quiet.

"You wanna stay?" Steve murmured in his ear.

Bucky looked around at everyone making choppy conversation and was immediately on his feet. Only Clint, Natasha and Parker paid him any mind.

"Bucky and I got some paperwork we forgot to finish for SHIELD, can't stay tonight." Steve said, it was obvious that he was covering up so Bucky didn't look rude for leaving. However, even if it was rude that he left like that, he knew when his presence wasn't wanted.

The elevator ride was silent, Steve standing next to him. Bucky relaxed more and more as the number of floors in between him and everyone else increased. He almost wanted to go for Steve's hand again but he has to be mad with Bucky. He probably thinks that Bucky hadn't been trying. He had tried, even if it wasn't that evident.

So, no, he didn't grab Steve's hand. Just forced himself to bare the rest of this elevator ride and then he would be free to go in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me of any mistakes. this is already so late that i didn't even read back over it more than once and sent it though spell check. sorry if it's crap.


	9. Plans Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my laptop is broken so i'm typing this on my phone but my phone thinks it is funny to auto correct "bucky" to "bucket" so tell me if you see that typo

The second the elevator doors opened, Bucky was ready to bolt. Just as the opening was getting big enough for him to get though and he was moving forward, Steve's hand grabbed his. It was a firm grip telling him that wherever Steve went, he would have to go too. So probably not to be in his bedroom alone. 

"Steve?" His voice cracked, it was also too high pitched for his liking. 

"We have a lot to talk about."

"No." 

"No?" Steve raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," Bucky tried to pull his hand away, "I didn' mean - I ruined - I know you're mad but -" Bucky's voice was taking a frantic edge.

"You didn't ruin anything." Steve squeezed Bucky's hand that was still wiggling and trying to get away. It stopped but Bucky still looked hesitant.

"Movie night was... was so... no one knew how to act 'round me and I wasn't exactly doing much to help."

"They just met you." 

"They already knew who I was." 

"They knew the Winter Soldier." 

"Is there much difference?" 

Steve looked almost offended at Bucky's question. He stared hard at Bucky, knowing that he had to choose his next words very carefully. "If I asked you to go down there and kill all them would you?" 

"How is that relevant?" Bucky looked irritated but Steve wanted to start to get through to him that his actions as the Winter Soldier did not define him now.

"You know exactly how it is relevant. Answer the damn question." 

Bucky looked down, "I wouldn't." 

"See? No let's go sit on the couch. As I said, there's a lot to talk about." 

- 

Steve brought Bucky the extra blanket he had on his bed, the one Bucky had clutched in his hand while he slept the other night. Steve still stored that image in his mind, it'd been cute. Bucky looked cute now too, wrapped in a blanket and sitting cuddled into the couch. Steve assumed he was trying to hide, but it was still cute. Steve was planning on making him feel better... at least in the long run. Bucky probably wouldn't be too happy talking about - well, anything right now. 

Steve frowned when he sat down not really wanting to make Bucky feel anything but happy but he knew it would be a long road. Therapy has been hard for Steve, he hated going and having to face certain things he wanted to keep hidden. He remembers feeling all too vulnerable after his first few sessions. However, he also remembers there were times that he felt he needed to go and felt a lot better afterwards. He wanted that for Bucky and while he knew he was definitely not a therapist and didn't know the first thing about any of this, that the two of them were learning together. Bucky had already learned that he could just hide from it all and Steve needed him to see that it wasn't okay. He knew Bucky wouldn't go to therapy without a push. 

He handed Bucky the mug of hot chocolate he made as he sat down. Bucky took it thankfully, a small smile appeared on his face when he took a sip.

"That's not coffee." He almost was giggling as he took another sip.

"No," Steve took a sip from his own mug,  chuckling too, "I didn't think coffee was such a good idea at this time." It was probably close to twelve am. 

"Mm, it's okay. This is a good alternative." 

Steve grinned and bumped his shoulder against Bucky's. 

They were quiet for a while, Bucky hoping that Steve would just give up on the idea of talking about what happened. He was okay just to sit here and drink hot chocolate until he fell asleep. The liquid was leaving a warm feeling in his chest - maybe that was partly from Steve's company too.

Steve was trying to find out the best way to bring something up. He didn't even know where to start, he thought about asking Bucky what he wanted to talk about first but he knew Bucky would just say nothing. 

"I'm sorry I've been a bad friend," Steve just blurted the first thing that came to mind out, then cringed at the way Bucky shifted away from him. It could have just been cast off as movement in any other situation but Steve knew talking about anything that related to Bucky like this made the other uncomfortable.

"You haven't -"

"I have," he stressed, "I left you to suffer by yourself for so long."

"I haven't been by myself." Steve didn't point out that Bucky didn't mention the suffering part. "You still talked to me and you were still my friend." 

"But I never tried to help -"

"You didn't need to." 

"And now that I got the opportunity to and I think that it hasn't really done anything but make it worse." 

Bucky was quiet for a long few seconds, obviously struggling with what to say. "Honestly... I feel different than I did before you started -" Bucky took a sip of his coffee, thinking about how he should word this "- insisting on acknowledging.. everything." 

"Different?" Steve sounded worried.

"Not worse," Bucky said as if that answered Steve's question, and technically it had because Steve hadn't been specific.

Steve took that 'not worse' as Bucky admitting that there had been something wrong to begin with. Steve liked to think that was the "first step" - even though there was no plan - covered but he knew better. If he were to explicitly ask Bucky if there had been anything wrong, he would deny it.

"Are you feeling bad right now?" 

"No." 

"Even after movie night?" 

"... Not at my best but I'll forget about it soon enough." 

"I'm sorry I made you go." 

"Why?" He hadn't wanted to go, still thinks he should have stayed home but it hadn't been the disaster that he imagined. He imagined them being mean and asking a whole bunch of invasive questions. He had got past that shaky - well... more like walking across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope - talk with Tony and then it was just a big bit of awkward. 

"I feel like I kind of pushed you too far." 

"Whadda you me -"

"I just - I've kinda been ignoring your problems. I didn't want to overstep." Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and hanging his head. "I kept telling myself that you are an adult and you could worry about yourself. But then I was thinking that I am an adult too but sometimes I don't know what I'm doing either." He flopped against the couch again. "I didn't know how to approach the things you've been putting yourself through without making you upset so... I - I didn't. But these last few days made me realize that -"

"I  _am_ an adult," Bucky interrupted looking hurt and on the border of irritated. 

"- that adults need help too," Steve looked hard over at Bucky.

Bucky opened his mouth to say something else - most likely defensive - then closed it, expression fading to something soft. "Huh?" 

"I mean, I needed help too. I refused to get it so Nat and Sam pushed me to get it." He stated simply, as if it hadn't been a whole month long argument. "I'm realizing that me not doing anything for you is not helping you progress towards feeling better. I've just been thinking that things would smooth over by themselves or that you would figure it out on your own." 

"I did." 

"You figured out how to push down reactions, that doesn't make the problems that caused them go away."

"It will eventually." 

"No, Bucky, it won't." 

"I've been fine with how things have been."

"No you got use to them." 

"I -" Bucky looked lost, he took a sip of got chocolate and didn't look at Steve.

"And it's partly my fault that you did, I'm sorry and I want to help make it better." 

Bucky took another sip of hot chocolate. 

"Will you let me help?" 

Bucky set the mug down, using it as an excuse to shift around more so he wasn't even touching Steve anymore. Steve frowned again but didn't make any move to force contact with Bucky. 

"How? What exactly are you even tryin' to fix?" Bucky's voice was rough, like he was trying not to cry.

"I... I just want you to realize that you don't have to punish yourself and that you should just live your life." 

"I can't." 

"You deserve too though." 

"I don't." Bucky gritted out and Steve could only hope that this really  _would_ help in the long run. 

"Well I think you do and I want you to think so too." 

"You are so stubborn," Bucky whispered under his breath.

"So are you," Steve shot right back.

There was another beat of silence and both of them expected Steve to bring something else up - even if Bucky didn't want him to. "Did I overstep tonight? With the whole movie thing?" 

Bucky shifted again and Steve couldn't tell what he was trying to do. "I didn't want to go but you didn't really make me do anything I didn't want to do."

"Wha -"

"You didn't overstep."

"No?" He asked, just to really make sure. Bucky shook his. "How was movie night then?"

"I... wouldn't have gone if you didn't make me." 

"So... bad?"

"Awkward." 

"Yeah. I'm sorry about Tony being so sour. He usually makes those nicknames as a joke, I don't know why he -"

"I get it. I killed his parents." 

"He said that he would try, he said that he would try to talk to you."

"Well saying something is harder than doing it." 

"I guess. You two are going to have to talk it out."

"No." 

"Yes."

"No."

"Maybe," Steve finally said and left it at that, Bucky could tell by the way he said it not to say 'no' again.

After their little disagreement, it should have been an awkward silence. It felt like there was more to say, a lot more to talk about. Bucky wasn't sure what to do other than reach for his mug of hot chocolate and slump against Steve's shoulder. Steve smiled, took a sip of his own hot chocolate and let his arm curl around Bucky and the blanket Bucky was still wrapped tight in. 

"Hey Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you - uh...did you make your bed this morning?" 

Bucky was quiet, had not thought about the sheets and the mattress protector since earlier. 

"No..." He said then backtracked. Steve should know that he hadn't, he was in his room earlier. Bucky doubts he forgot. "Um, thanks for buying me new sheets." 

"Oh, yeah, anytime. They weren't even expensive." 

Bucky just hummed, then buried his face into Steve's side to try and hide from the awkwardness of the conversation. Neither of them was going to bring up the waterproof mattress protectors. Bucky too ashamed and Steve just wanting to spare Bucky of death from embarrassment. 

"Are you planning on making it tonight?" 

"Uh.."

"Do you want a hand with it?"

Bucky blushed but nodded, refusing to look anywhere but the inside of his mug. "Okay, finish your hot chocolate then we can go." 

"Alright." 

Neither of them rushed to finish their drinks, just sitting and enjoying the warmth. 

-

Bucky woke up warm again, wrapped in Steve's blanket that he had been using on the couch the night before. He had tried to make Steve take it back but he doesn't think his argument had been that convincing because he had still had the blanket around his shoulders at the time. Steve had made his bed for him that night while Bucky put away the folded sheets and one set of the new sheets. Bucky had really been trying not to look at the mattress protector Steve was putting on his bed so he could pretend that it wasn't there. Steve had put the navy colored sheets on the bed and Bucky had noticed the dark color of the sheets - harder to stain. 

Steve had literally tucked him in and kissed his forehead last night. It made Bucky blush so hard that he was pretty sure that when Steve turned the light off that he could still see Bucky's face glowing in the dark. 

So, yeah, Bucky woke up warm in the morning. He squirmed a bit, untangling himself from the blankets. Nightmares last night hadn't been that bad, he didn't really remember them. Maybe there hadn't been any but he thinks he's been so lucky this week. Even if he did still have nightmares - some worse than others - there were considerably less. Bucky definitely felt safe last night, wrapped tight in a blanket to keep scary thoughts away. Even if the conversation he had with Steve before bed had made him a bit stressed. He usually wet the bed with every nightmare but everything seemed to come on more strong when he was stressed. When he was forced to think about everything he was trying to control. 

He briefly wondered if Steve had been right about him just getting use to how he felt, that he wasn't really fixing anything. He dismissed it quickly as he stood up out of bed.

His plan was to go train, get his mind clear of what him and Steve had talked about last night. 

He changed into his sweats that he uses for working out and a dry fit tshirt. This time he actually brought his duffle bag with a change of clothes and his things to shower. He wasn't so angry and over emotional this time, he was thinking straight now. He was actually going to train, not overwork himself.

That had been his plan anyways. However, he found Steve hopping around the kitchen while he cooked breakfast.

"What are you...?"

"I was trying to make pancakes but I forgot about them." 

"How -"

"I started reading, is all." Steve scratched the back of his neck and looked to the table, where a book had obviously been thrown to the floor. It was laying open, pages down and looking a little bent from the landing. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he started his walk to the elevator again.

"Wait, have one before you go."

Bucky made a face. 

"I have some that aren't burned." Steve promised, one of those self conscious smiles on his face.

Bucky set his duffle bag down and grabbed a plate, hair hanging in his face to hide the flushed cheeks from his soft smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait, i'm not even gon a make excuses


	10. Blame and Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay sorry it's been more than a month but i have no excuse. i was actually gonna put this stroy on hold for a few weeks because i've been having a really hard time writing. but then i just got a flow going and almost 4000 words popped out. so here. sorry it took so long
> 
> also sorry that i didn't edit this, only spell checked it. feel free to point out mistakes in the comments

He thinks this was a start to a good day. He ate breakfast with Steve, had easy conversation flowing. He made Steve smile, even laugh a few times. He helped Steve with the dishes and then went off to the gym.

Over these past few months Bucky has had somewhat of a schedule; wake up, get dressed, laundry if he needed, gym for a few hours if he felt like it, pass out from how tired and dehydrated he was - a nap, he would argue - dry and fold laundry when he got back, and do random stuff until he was tired enough to go to sleep. He thought it was a pretty good schedule despite not having a set time to actually do anything. Sometimes he would start at three am or twelve pm, times didn't vary much, either he slept half the day or woke up before it started.

These past few days, he's been wondering if those days had been good or not. He knows what a bad day is, waking up from a nightmare and not wanting to even get out of bed. The only things that urged out of bed on those - most - days was the fact that the bed was wet. Days where he didn't have to force himself out of bed, he considered good days. It wasn't that he wanted to get out of bed on good days, sometimes it felt warm and comfortable and the urge to stay in was there. It was different than the days where he woke up wet. On days he woke up wet, he didn't want to get out of bed and face the world. Even though his world had been reduced down to Steve and their floor on the tower.

Now, he was wondering if days where he could actually get out of bed without laying there awake for a few hours were actually good days. He knew that they weren't bad, but he was wondering if they were actually good. He was wondering if he could have better. He was wondering if he could have days like today where he actually wanted to get out of bed because it felt like there were things to do. Not just because he had to.

He knew he didn't deserve to but he couldn't help that selfish want pushing him to make today good. Just to see. Just see if those other days where actually good or if they just weren't bad. Just to see if there was actually a difference between not bad and good. He didn't know why he wanted to, he was supposed to be reverting back to how things were before. He was really trying but now it seemed like people were pushing and pushing him to stay away from how things were supposed to be. He knew he should ignore them but today there was this curiosity.

He got out of bed this morning because he felt like there were things he needed to do. He had went with his normal schedule except he ate before he went to the gym and actually brought his water bottle. He also didn't over work himself, when his arm started to feel weak from the repeated work, he stopped. It was simple but there were other times where the only thing that he felt like he could do was keep going and he couldn't stop until he physically couldn't stand anymore. He would push down tiredness on top of whatever other feelings he had at the time until he was too tired and there was nowhere to push it anymore. Today, he just stopped. It brought him this feeling of control over himself. Most of the time he had come down to the gym to work himself until he was too tired to need the control he had went down there looking for. All he had to do this whole time was not give in to that need to push it down.

Bucky was confusing himself now. He went to go shower, not realizing he had been standing in the large shower room they had just staring off. There were twelve showers - why twelve, Bucky had no clue - and they were all individual stalls and had their own curtains. Bucky set his duffle bag in the bench stretching in front of the showers.

He opened it, only struggling minimally with the zipper and tugged his towel out from under all the stuff he had piled on top. He shoved his clothes to change into after to the side of the bag. He grabbed all the necessary things for his shower and hung the towel on the hook on the dividing wall of the shower stalls.

He barely managed to wash his hair by himself. He had trouble remembering how much shampoo to squeeze into his hand and ended up with any too much. He worked it into his sweaty hair anyways, squeezing his eyes shut when he felt it running down his forehead. He didn't really know what to do about it because he wasn't done cleaning his hair so he couldn't rinse it yet. He decided that he would just have to keep his eyes shut and hopefully the shampoo wouldn't slide down his forehead anymore.

Inevitably, it did. Soap suds from the shampoo went right down his forehead, over his eyebrows and ran over his closed eyes. And this caused a minor freak out. Bucky wasn't stupid enough to open his eyes but he did make a small noise of panic. He stuck his face under the water, wiping at his closed eyes with soapy hands, not making it any better. He kept wiping at his eyes until his hands came clean of soap, making him able to effectively wipe the soap off his eyes and forehead now. He pulled back from the stream of water, pushing his hair back to avoid anymore soap running down his face.

He blinked a few times, rubbing his eyes because he was worried there was still soap there and coughing from sticking his face under the stream of water. He knows it was an overreaction, that there was no more soap on his face and that there was no reason to be coughing from the shower water. But he couldn't help it.

He rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, keeping his eyes shut the whole time and continued on with his shower. He thankfully was able to keep conditioner in his hair and off his face. Thank god for that, the shampoo had almost made him cry and he thinks the conditioner would have been worse.

He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist, moving the curtain of the shower out of the way so he could go change into his clean clothes. He slipped his shirt on, cringing at the feeling of wet hair touching the fabric. After his underwear were on, he folded the towel and put it on his shoulders so it was hanging like a scarf would, protecting his shirt from wet hair. Then, he was struggling into a pair of jeans, trying about six times before he managed the button on them.

Next came socks and shoes, which proved to be even more of a problem. Even sitting down on the bench after losing balance once, he barely got his socks on. They were crooked, the heal of them in the side of his foot. He had to pull at them until they were straight, the stitching on the toe still a bit awkward. When he got to shoes, he stared at them for a while, trying to remember what to do with them.

There were dirty marks all over his converse. he only had one pair of them, really no need to have that many. He would only wear one pair anyways. It's not like bright yellow converse or any other color would go with what he usually wore. All black, it was good for hiding, being a shadow in the shadows. Never knew what was going to happen, who was around the corner. The white around the edges of the slim shoe was pushing it a bit, but at this point they were so dirty from over use that the white wouldn't stand out too much in the dark. And if he was being honest, converse looked nice with skinny jeans and a shirt. It was a simple enough look and he -

was getting off track. He was getting off track, he needed to put his shoes on and go back up to his floor.

He reached for them, trying to put his foot in one but the tongue of his shoe got stuck and ended up pushing half way down. He only got his foot in half way, the laces already messed up from pushing the tongue on his shoes too far down. He stared at the shoes, shocked. How else was he supposed to put it on?

He tried a few other ways before he realized he was trying to put his right shoe on his left foot. At that point, he was done trying. He shoved the shoes on his feet - the correct feet this time - and decided however they went on this time would be good enough. He stood up, shoes untied and heels squishing the back of his shoe and hanging off the back. He didn't care, all he needed to do was walk to the elevator but it felt weird to leave without shoes on.

He shouldered his bag after shoving all his things inside, towel still on his shoulder. As he was walking out he ran into Natasha, literally, she dropped all of her things - just some clothes and a towel - onto the floor.

He apologized quickly already going down to pick everything that fell up for her. She grabbed him by the shoulder though, "It's fine, Bucky. I wasn't looking where I was going, relax." Then she was on the floor and gathering up her clothes.

She laughed suddenly, "Forget how to put on shoes?"

He shifted back, blushing, "Uh... no, just - you know, didn't see the point of putting them on all the way if I was only walking to the elevator."

She hummed, "Well, it's bothering me," suddenly her hands were pulling at the tongue of his shoe, making room for his foot. She pulled the back of his ankle so it went inside of the beat up shoe. Then she was righting the back of his shoe where it had been smashed by his heel, making it a lot more comfortable to wear the shoe. She repeated the same thing for the other foot. Finally, she ties them, tight enough to stay on but loose enough to just be slipped on and off. He made a mental note not to untie them, since he couldn't seem to be able to retie them for himself.

"There," she sighed, grabbing the dropped things that she had set down to fix his shoes. She said it so simply, as if she didn't know that he hadn't been able to do that by himself. It came crashing down on him how ridiculous it was that he needed help with something as easy as putting on his shoes. Also, how it felt to just let himself be helped, how easy things could be. It was strange because he wasn't sure if he wanted it or not. Too much embarrassment. He wasn't a baby, he should be able to put shoes on by himself.

She stood up, her towel and clothes now messily unfolded in her arms. "Movie night could've gone better, huh?" She asked, not even bothering to dance around it for a little while.

"Oh, yeah, no," he mumbled, blushing even more because he didn't even know what he was saying. "I had been expecting worse."

"How much worse?"

"Not sure. Just them asking a bunch of questions I didn't want to answer... like why I'm never there."

"An interrogation?"

"A million and one questions."

"It was just awkward." Natasha was pretty easy to talk to. She didn't say too much and he could easily come up with an answer. She knew how to talk with little words and she could understand what he didn't say. It reminded him a bit of Steve. Him and Steve just knew each other long enough to understand.

"Stark hates me."

"He... he's complicated. I can't speak for him but I think he's more upset with the fact that he never got the chance to have a good relationship with them and not the fact that it was you."

"I'm the reason he didn't have that chance -"

"You need to talk with him about that, not me."

Now seemed like the best time to ask, "What about the Red Room then?"

Her voice barely wavered but he could hear it was stiff now, "What about it?"

"Do you blame me?"

"No," without hesitation.

"Not even a little? Not even at the time when I was just another person there to train you?"

"Never."

"But I -"

"You never seemed all the way there and now... knowing that you weren't at all, I don't blame you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Now go get on with your day." She patted his shoulder and gave him a little push out the door. He smiled for a second to himself, shoulders feeling lighter knowing that she hadn't even thought of blaming him. He tried his best not to think of Stark.

-

Tony really tried. He didn't actually want Barnes to feel bad about whatever happened during his time with Hydra. After their fight Tony had asked FRIDAY to show him all the videos and files about Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes in Hydra record. He had read files first, some part of him not really wanting to see. He knew it was bad. He had heard Barnes whispering something to Steve about an electrotherapy - torture, he learned very shortly after - chair in the room room that they were about to walk into. He really tired not to think about that room and what he learned in there too much. Tony had learned so much about how many people Barnes had killed. That wasn't it. He read documents about all the testing they did on him, all the drugs they had in his system and kept him on, how they got him to slowly break back in the forties. He read so much shit that he had actually been afraid to watch the few videos there were.

He had only watch it eight out of the thirty three that there were. He saw the process of getting his trigger words to work instantly, he saw Barnes on the floor bloody, bruised and barely recognizable after a failed mission. He learned that for small mistakes punishment would be hours in that electro chair. He heard screams that he didn't even know were possible from a human.

It was almost hard to blame Barnes. It hadn't been all the endless torture that convinced him that Barnes really didn't have a choice - even if it had been a big factor - but it was the way he had fought in the beginning. It had taken the scientists almost three years to break Barnes before they started the trigger word process.

Tony couldn't blame him, especially seeing the way he was now. Why should Tony blame him for something that wasn't his fault? Barnes ready blamed himself, seemed to be hurting over it too much already. Tony didn't think he had the right to degrade someone's mental health like that. Barnes already seemed to being doing a great job doing that by himself.

However, he hadn't really known what to say or feel when he saw Barnes. He thinks all the grief he had been ignoring from his parents death surfaced right back up when he saw Barnes.

He could only think of relationships he could never have with them. It wasn't per se that he blamed Barnes but knowing that it had been his hands... it... he... the Dracula the Stars and Stripes and Elsa comments had slipped out it it just went downhill from there.

He told Steve that it was okay to bring Barnes but he hadn't actually expected him to show up. It was a shock (was it okay to say to himself: pun intended? probably not) and he hadn't prepared himself.

So, yes, the comments had slipped out on their own. And had he meant them? Hell yes. But not like that, not as insults. Maybe in another scenario as jokes. Barnes was paler than Steve and it wasn't Tony's fault that it was funny. However, he knew the way he said it hadn't been funny. He made a mental note not never call Barnes _Dracula_ again. And to never call Steve _Queen Elsa_ again (he couldn't give up the Stars and Stripes one, that one was reserved for when Steve was wearing that ridiculous red white and blue monstrosity of a suit).

He hadn't actually meant to hurt anyone, just wanted to draw the attention away from the obvious sharp edges around him and Barnes. It hadn't worked. In fact, made it worse.

He saw Steve whispering in Barnes' ear after the first movie was over. Barnes looked around with wide blue eyes - blue but looked nothing like Steve's bright ones, his were pale - and was stood up so suddenly Tony averted his eyes.

He was in the elevator before Steve even started with his bullshit excuse. "Bucky and I got some paperwork we forgot to finish for SHIELD, can't stay tonight."

They all stared at the elevator. No one knew what to say.

"Well -" Clint started.

"What the hell was that?" Natasha sounded irritated, the suddenness and sternness in her voice making half of them jump.

"That wasn't cool, Tony."

"You know what else wasn't cool, when Barnes k -"

"Tony, don't even _be_ like that." Natasha said from where she sat alone on the second couch.

"He did though." He insisted, not even sounding like he believed it to himself.

"It wasn't his fault and you know that. You've said it yourself."

"Well maybe I was wrong before but it is." Him and his goddamn pride. He wanted to admit right now that he was the one that was wrong. He was the one that owed the apology at this point, not the one that was gets one.

"Then kick him out." She states simply, all frustration gone.

Tony wasn't even aware of everyone's eyes on him anymore. "Wh... what?"

"If you think it is really his fault that your parents are dead, then he shouldn't be in your tower right? He should have been gone a long time ago."

"Nat -"

"Tony, I want you to think real hard about the next words out of your mouth because I am this close to starting another Civil War -" In another situation, he would have laughed because she was learning how to be overdramatic.

He really didn't know what to say to actually communicate that he didn't blame Barnes for anything, that he just...

"I miss my mom." He said, then regretted it because now everyone was staring with pity.

Natasha sighed from the couch, then stood up. "Come on, Tony." She said as she made her way to the kitchen.

"Wha -"

"Get your ass up."

He followed her to the kitchen.

She sat down on top of the counter, "You've learned what fighting can do to this team."

"Yes." He said, frowning. They all knew too well.

"So then why? I know this isn't about blame, so don't even try with that crap."

"Who says it isn't."

"Then tell me why you blame him."

He was quiet, of course not having a valid argument. They must have sat there for a solid minute before Natasha decided that was enough time for him to have gathered his thoughts and started his argument.

"You don't do you?"

"I... no. I did before. All I saw was him slamming my father's head against the car and his hand around my mom's throat."

"And now?"

"He still lives here doesn't he?"

"So then why were you acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"We both know you are a better person than this."

"I didn't mean the names I called him."

"You need to tell him that, not me."

"I saw the videos -"

"Don't tell him that."

"- and it just makes it hard to blame him."

Tony glanced over at her, she said nothing. He took a second to think, did he really need to be spilling his guts to her? It was his problem with Barnes, it was none of her business.

He huffed out a sigh, "Nevermind, things will smooth over on their own." He was already getting up.

"It will scar, not heal."

"Yeah, whatever."

"You really want more? You want more unresolved, painful situations situations like your parents? Like with Steve? Like with -"

"It's not his fault, there is that what you wanted?"

"You really mean that?"

"Yes." He left out the part where he just wanted his mom back, he didn't care how she died, he just wanted a normal mom.

"Then it's just not what I want, it's what he needs."

"He can figure it out himself."

"He won't."

"He'll have to." He said, making his way out of the kitchen.

"What are you, four years old? Get back in here."

"Why?"

"Tony, come on I've known you any over ten years. Something's bothering you."

"No."

"Liar."

"What, you want my sob story?"

"Yep."

He stared at her with disbelief, "You already know it, mom and dad were never around, I got pissy about it, never cared what they did after a while. Then, oh no, tragic accident, they're dead."

"Great sob story, now will you stop being such an asshole and tell me?"

He considered, "...and poor Tony never gets a normal set of parents." And hoped she really did know him and could read though his sarcasm.

"You're really an asshole sometimes." But her eyes shone with understanding. Maybe not fully but it was enough, he felt heard and all that.

"It's what I'm best at."

"Want coffee?" She asked after a beat.

"Yeah." She got to work.

"Hey, Fri, are they watching a movie yet?"

"No."

"Ask them to find one."

They watch three more movies and by the end of it all - the awkward tension, the loss of his parents and his little chat with Natasha - his brain was fried. He was ready for bed, something he rarely thought.

Also, inappropriate pun number two. He needed to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you think of Tony? better? worse? still really off from his charecter? i did my best to explain but i didn't think he would just spill his guts. i really hope i didn't mess up his characterization again. please don't yell at me if i did. 
> 
> what about bucky? am i pushing too much progress too fast? too slow?


	11. Roof Access

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warning:** very very very minor reference/mention of suicide. bucky does not do or think anything along those lines. it is just one line of dialogue that it is mentioned in, that's it.
> 
>  **more detail, minor spoiler:** bucky is going up to the roof and friday tells him that if he endangers himself up there that she has a program that makes her need to call someone to help him. it is just in one line of dialogue and i put it there to kind of _imply_ that bucky is not suicidal because he doesn't think of the roof as a possibility. (interpret it however you want though)
> 
> it may seem like a pointless warning but i just want everyone to be safe because i didn't mention it in the tags because i didn't think such a small line of dialogue needed to be warned any further than this. if i am wrong, please tell me and i will add it in the tags right away.

Thing is, Bucky has never been out of the tower since he got here (He was pretty much Repunzel, long hair and everything). It's been over a year since he's been outside. Of course he's seen the clouds and sun and all. He had a giant window in his room, the living room and kitchen had so many windows and Steve usually left then open. He had his window open a lot too. He usually used outside light for reading and kept it open for the cool night air.

He's not falling into one of those depressions people get from missing the sun or the clouds or the birds or outside air or whatever it is. He is actually terrified of going outside. 

He remembers how strange it had been to see how much everything had changed. How different the people were outside, how different the buildings were. So many lights and many more cars and a lot of sounds. He's not really sure how to deal with all that. He doesn't want to be the Winter Soldier again. He doesn't want to stress himself out too much or see an old trigger. Or, or, or. There was always something. 

So, right now, going to the roof was making him want to throw up. But he was really really bored. He wasn't actually sure what to do on a "good day". He found himself pretty bored with his book, words too hard to read and understand, he was just too distracted. He had tried switching to a book in English that he had already read before but he was still having trouble focusing on the words. 

He had been pacing his room, nothing to do. He wondered how he even kept himself occupied on his normal days. He wonder why today felt like he couldn't. Wondered what he had done on other days. Just read, actually. So he decided that maybe he needed to change it up a little bit. 

"FRIDAY..." He trailed off

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Can I... Am I allowed to go on the roof?" 

"Yes." 

"No one is up there, right?" 

"No." 

He had grabbed his two books and made his way to the elevator. Nerves basically exploding. He wasn't even sure why he was so nervous to go to the roof. He's pretty sure Dr. Banner goes up there all the time for some peace and quiet. But now he had got it in his head that rules were different for him. That's how it was with Hydra, he hadn't been able to do things his handlers had done. He couldn't... 

"FRIDAY?" 

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of what?" 

"That I'm allowed?" 

"Very, no need to worry. You have full clearance to access every part of the tower by yourself except sir's lab." 

"Oh... okay." 

Worry still ate his insides. Heart pounding so hard that he was sure if someone else was here with him that they would be able to hear it. 

FRIDAY had said it was okay. She wouldn't let him up there if it he wasn't allowed or if it was going to get someone mad with him. 

He still couldn't find it in himself to actually step out of the elevator when he reached roof access. 

"Mr. Barnes, I can assure you that you are allowed on the roof. No one will bother you, however if you show signs of needing help or endangering yourself I am not permitted to leave you - or anyone - up there without informing someone."

"What does that mean?" 

"The roof can be dangerous. Sir just wants it to be safe." 

"Um, okay." 

"You can go up there now."

He nodded, still afraid that he was doing something wrong. He stepped out anyways and opened the roof access door. 

He couldn't even contain the wonder in his eyes. He's never been up here. He did explore and memorize the whole tower but he didn't come out to the roof. Steve had been showing him around, showed him how to get to the roof access but they hadn't gone out there. He had been mapping out every possible escape route there was. He didn't think Steve would have appreciated him jumping from the top of Stark's tower to another building's roof. He knew he could probably have done it, he used to get away like that all the time as the soldier. 

He couldn't be concerned with escape routes now, that's not why he had come up here. He came up here to read, change of environment and all. 

He was amazed at how close the clouds look from up here. How blue the sky was and how bright the sun was. How the air felt different up here. 

He must have spent ten minutes just looking around. 

He settled on a spot behind the roof access door, leaning against the wall and looking out across the sky. He could see the tops of a few buildings but barely. 

He ended up reading for hours, until well past lunch and into the beginning of dinner. He read through his the rest of his book from Romania and started on his other book. He was about one third through it before FRIDAY told him that Steve was looking for him and telling him that it was time to eat. 

Bucky just nodded, standing up and stretching his legs before making his way back into the elevator. 

His mind felt quiet. Not empty like it had with Hydra. There was a steady flow of thoughts, nothing overlapping or screaming at him. It was strange but he decided not to fight it too much, decided that today it was okay to ignore those complicated rules he set for himself. He didn't even have them listed out in his head, it was just: _this seems too good for you, stop it._ He wasn't sure where that mindset had gone today but it seemed to have been repressed after his time in the gym. His arm and shoulders didn't ache and his eyes didn't hurt with exhaustion every time he closed them. Well, yeah he was tired from lack of sleep but he didn't feel overworked. 

The elevator opened and there was Steve with that big bashful smile. "Hey, Buck." 

"Hi." 

"I made dinner. If you're hungry, I just... I know you had breakfast and you don't eat a lot but you should. If you're hungry." 

"Um, yeah. I'll eat." 

Steve didn't say anything, just rushed off to the kitchen with an even bigger smile. Bucky trailing behind him, a little confused at Steve's sudden bright mood.

"It's just grilled cheese, I can make more if you're still hungry after." Steve offered the sandwich on a small glass plate as he walked over to the couch - of all places - to eat. 

"We're eating at the couch?" 

"How much of a mess can you manage to make with a sandwich?" 

"...Crumbs." 

"Hence the plate." 

"Okay, yeah." Bucky said as he sat down on the couch, he couldn't help but smile back at Steve's literally blinding smile. 

"Why so giddy?" Bucky asked.

"Huh?" 

"You're so... excited. Smiley, I guess." 

"It's 'cause 'a you." 

"Me?" 

"Yes, you. You just seem so... different today."

"I guess." He didn't know that it had been so obvious before that when he tried to have a good day people would notice his change in mood. 

"You guess," Steve chuckled a bit and he reached for the remote. The TV flicked on, volume low, probably from the last time they watched a movie.... A movie. Crap. A movie Steve probably hadn't even wanted to watch. Because according to Natasha, Steve hated movies. Was Bucky really shutting him out that much that he thought he had to do something he hated just to spend time with him? Had he really wanted to spend time with Bucky that much? 

"Steve..." 

"What?" 

"I... I'm sorry," was he could come up with. 

Steve was quiet for a second. "Why?" 

"You..." Bucky took a bite of that sandwich, even though his stomach was protesting it now. People going out of their way for him like this made him want to be sick. There was no reason for Steve to treat him with such kindness. Especially to do something he doesn't like doing. Especially because what Bucky wanted to do was weird. He was over one hundred years old and he wanted to watch kids movies. "You hate movies."

"Wh..." Steve muted the TV and looked over at Bucky. "Where did you get that idea?" 

"Natasha." 

"She said I didn't like movies?"

"Well... that you didn't like movie night but I thought that meant -" 

"I don't hate movies. We used to sneak into movie theaters all the time when we were kids, what made you think I can hate movies?" 

"A lot can change in seventy years." 

Steve gave a small sigh. Sad or disappointed, Bucky wasn't sure, but he knew he couldn't look at Steve. 

"I hate movie night, not movies." 

"Why -" 

"Bucky -" Steve started, then thought better about whatever he was going to stay and stopped for a second. "Movie nights are boring. Forced team bonding sucks. I just wish the Avengers could spend unscheduled time together instead of having to go to mandatory friendship time."

"So... you don't hate watching movies with me." 

"No," Steve laughed, reaching for the remote. He changed to the kids movie channel, it looked like a Disney movie - considering the talking animals - and unmuted the TV. 

- 

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He finished the sandwich a while ago and Steve took the plate to the kitchen. He came back with that stupid white and black soft blanket that was patterned like a flannel shirt. It was the blanket that had been on Steve's bed that had relocated to his room. Bucky couldn't help but smile and accept it. 

Bucky had ended up sitting close to Steve so they could share the blanket. Bucky just pressed himself to Steve's side and rested his head on his shoulder. 

Then, Steve's fingers started running through his hair. 

And it's like Steve wanted him to fall asleep. 

Bucky did, he fell asleep very fast. Barely halfway into the movie and his eyes were refusing to stay open. He felt his breathing start to slow and he knew he couldn't stay awake. Couldn't or didn't want to? Same thing. 

It was too warm, and too comfortable, and too cuddly. Bucky didn't want to open his eyes. So, he let himself fall asleep. It's not like he always thought about his accidents and what a big problem they posed. When he was this tired and comfortable, worrying about what happened when he fell asleep was beyond him. 

So, no, he wasn't thinking about the fact that he was on the couch with the possibility of having an accident. He also wasn't thinking about nightmares. 

He couldn't remember where he was at this point, and for a second, it was blissful. He was just in this space where nothing mattered. 

Then, his eyes opened. There were all the doctors, and the scientists, and his handlers. There was his old arm and his combat gear. He was cold and his skin still felt like ice was freezing. 

He was hearing something about a mission, then about his targets and -

_"Bucky."_

What? 

He was an asset. Bucky Barnes had long gone, one of the first killed at the hands of the asset. Bucky Barnes wasn't strong enough for this. He had been a boy, and Hydra had needed a machine. 

But then, someone was saying, _"Bucky,"_ again, and he felt himself shaking. However, not moving. 

Then, he really opened his eyes. There was Steve. There was his new, painless, more functional arm, and a blanket. His skin was warm, no ice.

He could hear the TV, voices flowing steadily out of it at a low volume. Then, he focused on Steve's voice telling him he was okay, that he was at home.

"Bucky?" 

"What?" 

"You okay?"

"Yes." 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"No." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." 

"Okay, you'll have to soon." 

"I know." They went back to the movie. 

And, he was right. Bucky Barnes was not strong enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so school has started and it's a lot of work. sorry for lack of updates. they will probably be even less frequent than they already are. i'm sorry. also i am going to take a small break and edit previous chapters because as you can tell from the many typos. incorrect grammar and spelling, i don't edit. so i will be making minor edits to other chs but not to the story line.


	12. Unimportant or Meaningful Realization?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik no one cares abt this fic anymore but here i am to drop a 2000 word update and then disappear again for another six months or however long i was gone before.
> 
> sorry this ch is literally just angst but bucky’ll start thinking he wants to get better v v soon

Bucky was staring blankly at the TV screen at this point. He hated... he's not even sure what he hated at this point. Himself? Maybe, but there was a deeper hatred going on. He wasn't really sure. He could feel it, sitting heavy but somehow hollowly in his chest, dropping painfully into his stomach, then twisting. He let out a shaky breath, head spinning from too much thinking. The problem was that he really wasn't thinking, but his brain was going into overload like he was.

He was just sitting there, not sure what to do with himself. He felt like he was either going to burst out laughing, or sobbing, or start hyperventilating. He thinks, logically, he should excuse himself and flee to his room to at least try and get himself under control. But when was he ever under control?

He was a mess, and at this point, he didn't even care. He completely lost his life from before Hydra had decided to come in and stomp over everything. He couldn't be Bucky Barnes from before the war, he couldn't even remember him. Yeah, bits and pieces, but barely even enough to make up a personality. It was like seeing someone you use to go to school with in public, but not exactly knowing who they are, just that you recognize them. He didn't know who he was.

He had done so many things, as Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, that he couldn't remember. He usually got teasing flashes from both, like - hey you did this, but you don't remember exactly what it was.

When it was a memory from the Winter Soldier, it was usually something bad. When it was a memory from Bucky Barnes, it was usually something he wanted to know but couldn't grasp. He remembered faces - sometimes kind smiling ones, more often terrified ones - but no specific details. He knew he had a mother, he could see her face, but it looked like it was in a reflection of a lake, and someone had thrown a rock. The image distorted, and unrecognizable.

He wanted to remember, he really, really did, but those memories were gone. Hydra took them and put them some where unreachable. There was no way he could remember much of anything. The few thins he did remember were hazy.

He feels like he shouldn't even care at this point. He knew the memories would never come back, so he shouldn't be wasting time on them. They were unimportant anyways. He assumes he had been a good guy before the war, especially if Steve had taken a liking to him. There was no way to live up to that.

Everything felt so unimportant all of the sudden. He guesses it always had, but maybe he's just never fully realized it until now. He knew he was just drifting though the life he got back and that it felt like nothing mattered. Now though, he was kind of starting to realize that he was really the thing that didn't matter. That everything felt unimportant because he was. He wasn't getting his memories back, he had done terrible things as that god awful, careless soldier, and he didn't deserve to do anything now because of it.

He wasn't really sure what to do with this new feeling of detestation. He was just so done with everything.

He thought back in disgust of all the things he let himself do the past few days. Letting himself make waffles with Steve, talking with Steve and even a little with Natasha, going to moive night, drinking that hot chocolate, and even that bullshit thing where he tried to have a "good day" today. He starts thinking about all the excuses he made up for why that would somehow be okay. He thinks about how stupid he sounded when he was telling himself that maybe things were better when he was letting himself do these things he didn't have any right to enjoy. Especially today with going to the gym and not working hard enough, reading a book, and even cuddling with Steve to watch a movie.

He shouldn't be doing those things. He needed to be suffering, just like all those people had at the hands of the Winter Soldier — _him_. He did those things. He finds himself wishing those things could just go away like his memories had. He wanted to forget about all the stuff he knew about the soldier, but he knew he wasn't allowed to. He had done those awful things, and there was no taking them back. He was just going to have to live with it. He just needed to go back to how things were before Steve decided to help him, and give up these unnecessary comforts. He didn't —

He jumped when someone's hand touched his arm. He didn't full body flinch away, but his arm definitely twitched. There was a comforting voice somewhere to his right, familiarity lace in their voice.

"Don't do that to yourself."

He didn't know what not to do exactly, so he sat still.

"— t go."

He thinks he made a confused noise, but everything felt too muffled so he wasn't sure. 

"Buck..."

He thinks that's his name. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

That's okay. He didn't care.

"Don't say that, it isn't okay."

He let out a breath, and looked over the person sitting next to him. Blond hair. Familiar.

Whatever. He remembers feeling like this before, it only got in in trouble.

His face didn't hurt, so he probably hasn't got hit yet, but it felt wet. He doesn't think he's been cleaned recently today, so he's not exactly sure why there would be water.

Then, he realized how hard it was to breathe, each breath trying to overlap the other.

"Bucky." And the name was familiar.

It was his name. That was someone's voice, and he knew them.

He shouldn't be crying in front of them. He needed to be put together.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop."

He felt pressure on his arm, and he vaguely thought maybe it was supposed to hurt. Maybe he had already been hit.

"Bucky..." He heard more words. A day, numbers, a place, an animal. He was confused. Then, they were being repeated. A day, numbers, a place, and an animal.

The pressure from his arm was gone, and his felt his right hand start to shake. Now that the pressure was gone, he could feel how much whatever had been happening had hurt.

He heard someone saying today's date, that he was at home in the Avengers Tower, and that they had been watching The Lion King.

He nodded along with the information, taking a few more times to hear it before he realized that it was important because it was today.

Steve was talking.

He flinched, pulled completely away from Steve to sit on the other side of the couch. Steve looked concerned, brows pinched, but he didn't move from where he was sitting.

"You okay?"

He nodded.

"Does your arm hurt?"

No— Wait... yes. He glanced down at it, there was a dark bruise on his wrist. He could see the shape of a hand.

"You did that," Bucky had never heard Steve sound so upset, concerned, defeated, and vulnerable.

"I..." he somewhat remembers starting to pinch at his skin so he could get a hold of himself. "It's fine."

"It's not."

"I—"

"You were hurting yourself, it's not okay."

"Sorry."

"No reason to say sorry, you didn't hurt me."

Bucky couldn't say anything back to that, didn't know what to. He just automatically reached up to wipe his eyes. Apparently he had been crying, still was too, with tears steadily falling down his face.

Steve stayed silent for a few moments, seeing if Bucky had anything to say. Bucky kind of wanted to tell him what realization he just came to, but he kept his mouth shut. Steve didn't need to know what he was feeling. It was unimportant.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

No. He wasn't, and that was a hard thing to even admit to himself, so he lied. He had to. "Yeah." His voice was strained, and he wanted to cry. 

"Bucky, don't lie."

Bucky shook his head.

"You're saying you're not lying?"

"I'm not."

"You don't sound okay."

"Steve," Bucky said it like it was a warning.

"Bucky, no. You did this last time too. The other day when I asked you if you were happy with how you were living. You got all mad. Don't do that, please. I just wanna talk."

Bucky sighed, threw himself back into the couch. He stared up at the ceiling, he didn't know what to say.

"I didn't realize I was doing it," He lifted his right arm, showing off the bruised skin. "It- It was an accident," He felt himself about to cry again.

"It's okay."

"It's not." Bucky didn't really realize how upset he sounded, "I wasn't in control of myself. I don't want that to happen. It can't happen."

"Buck —"

"I don't want to be the soldier again."

"The words are out of your head."

Bucky felt dizzy, he knew that but still. There wasn't exactly rules for how this thing worked. What if he still became the soldier even without the words, it's just who he is after seventy years of being with Hydra.

Bucky glances over at Steve. Steve with his stupid kind, too patient eyes, is looking at Bucky.

"I want you to talk about it."

"Steve —"

"You can't bottle everything all the time."

Bucky stared at Steve. He wondered why Steve didn't just yell just him or hit him. He deserved it at this point. Steve has been patient with him, way too patient —

Hit him? He looked at Steve, really looked. Steve wouldn't hit him. That has been made very clear, and Steve never hurt him. Steve wants him to get better, he thinks. He knows Steve would never hit him.

It occurred to him that his mindset was still with Hydra. He knew he wasn't with Hydra anymore, but definitely was still made to their standards.

He thinks Steve deserves to at least know a little bit, he's been nothing but patient. Steve had said he would have to talk about it soon anyways.

"I— I know you aren't my handler, and I know I'm not with Hydra," he clarified before he started attempting to explain, "but sometimes I forget that I don't have to be the soldier. It's not— it's not like I want to be the soldier, but just sometimes... I just forget that I don't have to follow Hydra's rules."

"A lot?"

Bucky felt his jaw twitch. "I don't want to... ever go back to feeling how I did as the soldier but I just don't remember how to do that." Bucky was surprised with his own confession, saying it out loud made it feel real. He wasn't looking at Steve anymore, he was looking at his feet.

"You feel like the soldier?"

"No..." he sighed, "I don't want to kill anyone or anything, if that's what you mean. I feel like— like how the soldier felt."

"How?"

Bucky's teeth clenched, "Afraid? I don't know."

"Of what?"

Bucky didn't know. He didn't want to answer questions anymore. He really told too much unnecessary things. He didn't want to feel the vulnerable anymore. Talking was hard.

He looked up at Steve, the blond smiled softly at him and Bucky was crying again. Just silent tears falling from his eyes. He half threw himself forward, half scooted towards Steve. Arms were around him in an instant. He didn't feel as unimportant with Steve hugging him. He almost told that to Steve, but decided to save it for later. He wasn’t feeling up to talking much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls leave comment i am begging for validation :’)


	13. Vicious Cycle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what? two updates in less than a month??? who even am i? 
> 
> don’t get too use to it idk how much mor i will write for a while :/ srry 
> 
> thanks for all the comments last ch. they left me in a fluffy mood so enjoy (if this can even be considered fluff•_•) <3 also i wrote this in math class so it’s like not edited at all forgive me

Bucky stayed with his arms tight around Steve. He had all his weight making him sag down, Steve was the only reason he didn't face plant into the couch. Bucky couldn't help it, Steve felt safe. He didn't want to let go, and he was tired. He didn't care if he probably didn't even deserve this right now, everything felt okay right now. He never wanted Steve to let go. He couldn't put it into words, he never wanted to move again though.

However, Steve gently nudged Bucky. Then, he did it again, a bit harder, keeping one arm on Bucky's back and the other pushing his shoulder away. He probably wanted Bucky to let go at this point.

Bucky took a soft breath, tried to get a hold of himself so he didn't look like a complete mess when Steve saw him. And then, he was crying again. He tightened his grip on Steve so he couldn't be made to move. He really was fine here, he didn't want Steve to see his face right now. He didn't think he could stop crying.

He sucked in a breath harder this time, not really able to control it like a second ago. Horrified, he realized he was sobbing into Steve's shirt, making very distraught sounding noises every time he tried to breathe. He tried to quiet himself, but it only made whatever gross noises he was making worse. He wanted to stop, he was making an absolute fool out of himself in front of the only person in the tower right now that liked him. Honestly, that all only made him cry more. Vicious cycle.

His arms tightened even more around Steve when he felt him move. Steve didn't try to move him again, Bucky thinks he actually felt Steve's arms secure tighter around him.

"Come 'ere," Steve said softly after however long of just sitting there and holding Bucky, "you can't be comfortable."

Bucky was still crying but his sobs had quieted down. Only tears and sniffles were left over after sitting there for so long.

Steve shifted himself backwards a little, giving enough room to pull Bucky onto the couch better. He had been sitting with his feet on the floor and as far as possible from Steve before he started crying and hugged him. He had barely been able to move himself to actually get to Steve, and once Steve's arms were around him, he didn't feel the need to move anymore. He had already got to his intended destination.

So his legs were half hanging off the couch, one foot on the floor, and his body was twisted uncomfortably to reach Steve. His arms were pretty much around Steve's waist and his face on his stomach.

Steve had pulled up him so his legs were now on the couch, Bucky had folded them as best he could so they weren't in the way. He had his face in Steve's shoulder now too, but he hadn't loosened his grip enough to get his arms to shift up all that much.

There was still an almost unstoppable flow of tears, and Bucky wasn't even sure exactly why he was crying. He just knew that it felt hard to breathe for no reason and that his crying was uncontrollable right now.

The thought to pinch his wrist occurred, it would be easy. His arms were locked behind Steve's back, Steve wouldn't even know he was doing it.

Before he could, his right wrist started aching in reminder. Bucky almost flinched away. He remembered how out of control he felt when he had apparently been squeezing his wrist. He didn't want that. He couldn't be doing that if it meant he wasn't going to be able to stop when he wanted to. He didn't want to pinch his wrist anymore, he didn't want to hurt himself like that anymore.

Bucky felt more power over himself in that decision than he ever felt using pain to stop himself from crying. With the latter, he thinks he would be in pain either way.

This decision was so sudden, but it felt right. He knew that he probably shouldn't be trying to hurt himself.

He also knew that it would be a hard habit to kick. He remembers doing the same thing even before the war, when he was a kid.

He realized he was still crying, it was still too hard to breathe. It was an easy transition in his head, a steady flow of — very tough, very real — thoughts, back to crying. He knew he hadn't stopped crying though. He knew Steve would get tired of it very soon.

However, trying to force himself to stop only made his breath hitch with more with a whine.

"Stop, relax." Steve was rubbing his back, "just breathe, Buck, we're fine the rest of the night right here if you need." Steve's hand that was rubbing his back switched to start running though his hair.

Bucky felt the knot in his chest untwist, and it was easier to get the rhythm of steady, in and out breathing. He could feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest, heart his breathing by his ear. It was almost easy to try and match that pace. Steve's heart was also beating steadily, he could feel it where they were pressed together. Bucky could also hear his own heart beat in his ears, but that was a little overloading in his head. However, if he listened long enough, his heart was evening out to match Steve's. Breathing felt easier at that thought. Steve's fingers were still running though his hair too.

"You're gonna be okay," Steve whispered softly, "I know you're probably overwhelmed, feeling a lot of things. I know telling me that stuff was hard, but you're okay." The hand in his hair and the arm around him made that feel reassuring.

Bucky just sniffed a bit, then opened and closed his eyes a few times to try and blink tears away. He kept trying to match Steve's breathing and Steve kept playing with his hair, and everything was soft, dulled around the edges. It was quiet.

Bucky could feel his shoulders relaxing more and more, and his eyes were already shut.

Bucky started slowly letting himself drift. His mind quieted, and so did his mouth. The sniffles and whines slowed, then stopped.

"Hey, Buck," Steve's nose was pressed against the top of his head as he spoke."I know you're tired, and probably don't wanna hear this but," Steve started gently scratching the back of Bucky's neck, Steve knew this would make him upset, "before you sleep I want you to go blow your nose, drink a glass of water, and go to the bathroom."

Bucky made a small noise in the back of his throat and shifted closer to Steve. He shook his head, holding Steve tighter.

Steve knew Bucky wouldn't like him telling him to go to the bathroom, but he also knew that if Bucky woke up to an accident that it would be worse.

Bucky was still shaking his head when Steve gently nudged him. "No," he grumbled out, voice small and sounding ashamed.

"Buck, c'mon, you were crying—"

"I'm sorry," he said almost automatically, voice was wobbling as he spoke.

"No," Steve kept absentmindedly running fingers through Bucky's hair now, "no, I'm not asking you to apologize. I don't care. Alright?"

The silence said Steve was looking for an answer. Bucky nodded.

"I don't want to hear anymore sorrys for that."

Bucky cleared his throat, "Okay."

"Okay," Steve repeated, "I have one more question, if that's okay."

Bucky shrugged, right now he felt like he could tell Steve anything. He was hidden in Steve's hug, no way anything bad could happen. He was safe like this, he thinks.

"I've— uh. I've asked this question before, but you didn't really answer. So don't get upset with me, but I wanna ask again."

Bucky stayed silent, if he didn't have a good reaction before, then he probably didn't want to hear it now either. He sighed softly, ready to pretend not to hear Steve's question or something.

"I—" Steve took a little breath, face still in Bucky's hair, voice soft, "Your accidents are they from your nightmares?"

His entire face heated up. He was right, he did not want to hear it. He was going to pretend not to, he really was. Then, Steve kissed the top of his head, and it was too hard to ignore him. He still didn't move for a second before he nodded slowly.

"Every night?"

"No," talking didn't actually feel too hard when he was hidden in a hug, "no, only a few times a week."

"I'm not exactly sure what you remember, but it's not much is it?"

"I... not a whole bunch of small details."

"You remember we used to live together?"

"Yeah."

"We used to share a bed too, at sleepovers when we were kids, then when we moved in together." Bucky nodded. "That offer still stands, if you ever need it."

Bucky laughed softly, "A twin bed."

"We barely fit."

"I pushed you off the bed one time." Steve could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, more than once" Steve gave a chuckle, Bucky sighed contentedly in return. They were quiet for a second. "Alright, Buck, you have to have a bit of a headache."

Bucky didn't break his silence and nodded. Truthfully, he hadn't realized his head hurt until Steve said something.

"Okay then, water and sleep will help with your headache."

Bucky could feel Steve shifting around a bit and sitting up so his face wasn't in Bucky's hair anymore. "Just sleep."

Steve gently pulled back from Bucky but his hands came to cup his face. Bucky was doing his best to look anywhere but Steve's eyes as if that would stop Steve from seeing how much a mess his face was. Steve knew he had been crying, but him seeing the evidence of it made Bucky want to keep his face hidden.

"See, you're okay." Bucky's head hurt, his face was hot, he could feel dry tears in his cheek, his eyes were itchy, his nose was stuffy, and he didn't want to talk anymore. He definitely didn't look okay, how Steve thought he did was beyond him.

Steve smiled at him, and Bucky couldn't help the watery smile he gave back. "So, you have to go blow your nose, drink water, and wash your face," Steve used his thumbs to wipe any tears off his cheeks, Bucky gave him a nod. "I think you should try to go to the bathroom, then change into pajamas."

Bucky felt his face heat up at that, and Steve was still holding his face, making Bucky look at him. It also stopped Bucky from trying to go back and hide in Steve's hug. Bucky still does his best to hide, tipping his head down as much as he can. He's looking at Steve's chest instead.

Steve brushed his thumb over Bucky's cheeks one more time before letting him go and nudging him so he would get up.

"You better come back out here, I've never seen this movie. I want to finish it tonight," Steve called from the couch to where Bucky was now in the kitchen.

Bucky did everything in the order Steve told him to, he found tissue, and chugged a glass of water.

Then, he went to go wash his face. The cold water felt nice even though you're supposed to use warm water to wash your face. He even tried to use the bathroom before he opened the door, much to his own embarrassment. He's pretty sure Steve could hear when he flushed the toilet. He had to wash his face again before he left.

He went into his room and chose the first comfy outfit he could find. Fleece pajama pants, and a washed and worn to softness shirt. He stared at his bed for a while, debating. He glanced to the door, then back to his bed.

He grabbed the warm blanket from his bed that Steve left with him before going back out to finish the movie.

He dragged his feet a little as he walked, debating if maybe he should take the blanket back to his room. Or better, take it back to Steve's room. For a second he thought that maybe Steve would see Bucky with the blanket and get irritated, then demand it back. He actually paused his walking.

He blinked a few times, then he slowly started walking again. He thinks the idea was silly. Steve probably wouldn't do that. He let Bucky have his blanket the other night and hadn't asked for it back, he actually seemed like he didn't care that Bucky stole his blanket.

Bucky felt all fuzzy when it occurred to him that maybe Steve wanted him to use the blanket. He found himself blushing and looking at the floor with a smile, hair falling to hide his face.

Bucky went out into the living room all shy with the blanket balled up and in his arms. He paused again by the door, thinking that maybe he was wrong and that Steve wouldn't want him to have his blanket.

"Hey, Buck," Steve looked in his direction and smiled. He looks like he changed too, his shirt wasn't all snotty and gross and he was wearing sweats. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Good, come sit then. I'm ready to see what happens," he reached for the remote.

Bucky sat as close to Steve as he could, their legs pressed together. Steve didn't try to move away from him, so he got comfortable. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and leaned against Steve's left side.

"You want covers?" His voice came out softer than he meant.

"Yeah, it's my blanket after all," but Steve gently knocked his knee against Bucky's leg and he was smiling, so it was okay.

"You c'n have it back if y' want."

Steve still had a smile, "No," he laughed, "it's yours now."

"But—"

"I have tons of blankets, I won't miss this one."

"Okay," he said, and Steve played the TV.

Bucky leaned more heavily against Steve, and Steve put his arm around Bucky to pull him close.

The movie was close to then end when Steve's fingers started gently twisting the ends of Bucky's hair.

"You tired or want to watch another movie," Steve asked once the credits started.

" 'm n't sleepy," Then, of course, he yawned at the thought that maybe he was sleepy.

"You're not?"

"No."

"Okay. What do you want to watch then?" Steve didn't sound like he believed him, but he pressed play on Tangled as requested. Bucky's already seem that movie, but he loves it.

By the middle, his eyes were dropping, and he had to blink them a lot to even see what was happening on the TV.

He ended up turning his face into Steve's chest so that he could close his eyes.

"See," Steve says gently, pulling his arm tighter around Bucky, "you were tired."

"Am not," he turned to look back at the TV.

"You know it's okay if you wanna sleep."

Bucky just shook his head, he's already had a nightmare tonight and didn't have an accident. There was no reason to push his luck.

He probably should have gone to bed at that point, but he liked Tangled and he liked cuddling Steve.

Bucky could still hear the characters in the movie talking, and he was following along until the end, but when it was over, Steve woke him up. It was a weird feeling, being woken up when he was pretty sure he was already awake. He remembers the movie ending, and looking at the TV confirms it because the credits were playing.

"You ready for bed."

"N' sweepy," he tried to say, then blushed. He pulled his thumb out of his mouth, he doesn't even remember putting his finger in his mouth. "Sorry."

"Why?"

Was Steve really going to make him say that he had been sucking his thumb? He could obviously see Bucky had his finger in his mouth like a baby.

"I don' know."

"I hope you know I don't mind."

"Min' what," Bucky's cheeks puffed out in a pout.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No I don'," but Bucky was lying, and Steve knew it.

"Never mind then, Buck."

"Humph," he grumbled, then experimentally put his thumb back in his mouth.

Bucky sighed when Steve started playing with his hair, and his eyes closed again.

"It's time for bed," Steve patted his shoulder.

Bucky nodded, and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. He stretched his legs out, and that made him have to shift so his head was in Steve's lap. He smiled up at Steve and blinked slowly, eyes heavy.

"Tired now?" Steve's hands came to touch his cheek.

"Yeah," he smiled a little.

"Cutie."

"Am not."

"You are."

"No."

"Yes," Steve gently touched bucky's nose. Bucky blushed when he realized that Steve just booped his nose. He tried to turn his face to hide, but Steve patted his arm and told him to sit up.

Bucky stands up, to wait for Steve to turn off the TV before he leaves the room. He walked slowly, half hoping that Steve would tuck him in again, but he knew it was stupid.

Steve passed him in the hall, dropping the blanket over his shoulders. Bucky realizes he forgot it on the couch, he hadn't actually meant to. He was half asleep, he thinks. "Night, Bucky."

"Night."

Bucky dropped the blanket off back on his bed before going into his bathroom, thinking that if Steve was in here that he would probably tell him to try again. When he curled up with Steve's blanket wrapped around him, his thumb unintentionally found its way back into his mouth. When he realized, he didn't rip his thumb out of his mouth, he just sighed and closed his eyes, deciding to question it later. He never got around to it. He slept comfortably anyways, so it didn't matter.

-

"Captain Rogers," FRIDAY said right as he closed his door.

”Yeah?”

”I would like to tell you something about Sergeant Barnes relating to today, if that is alright.”

"Um, sure FRIDAY."

"I do not believe Sergeant Banres would be ready for this yet, considering he does not want to admit that he is showing many signs of being little, or going into that type of headspace. I would not recommend bringing this until later unless you think it would benefit him now. However, I can tell you now because I think it is up to your judgment, and may help ease your mind on the subject of his accidents. Would you like to hear, or should I wait?"

"Uh, go ahead, FRIDAY, shoot."

"I believe that in the future you should consider bringing up the possibility to Sergeant Barnes of him wearing diapers while he sleeps. From what I have observed, he only has accidents when there are other outward signs of nightmares. He doesn't seem to be having less vivid nightmares, or to be having them less frequently these past few days. From what I have gathered from internet research, some — or most — littles wear diapers too."

"Okay. Alright, FRIDAY. I will definitely think about telling him all that. Thank you."

"Not of a problem. Would you like me to send you some of the best pages I have found?"

"....Yes," he said, walking towards the nightstand with him computer, then pushing back all his blankets. "To my computer, please."

"Of course, Captain."

Steve read first a public chat room on a random website he's never heard of before. It was under the category of _little space_ and _diapers_ , and there were some nasty things written there. He was going to ask FRIDAY when she sent this to him, but as he went on — and skipped over those things — there were more helpful things. He wishes FRIDAY filtered this before sending it to him, but whatever. He read about other littles wearing diapers, as FRIDAY had said. They talked positively about it.

 _Reddit_ was a lot more helpful. It was sorted under _sfw little space_ , which he found out just meant safe for work, so on the non-sexual side of things. There were a lot of different things being talked about, but FRIDAY asked him if he wanted to read it all or have her just sort it as what he was specifically looking for.

Steve read for a long time, eventually just asking FRIDAY to save the page for later. He has seen a few things besides diapers that he hoped Bucky would like.

He blinked a few times, realizing that Bucky hasn’t even accepted any of this yet. He wants Bucky to, this evening — after everything, when they were watching the movie — was fun. Steve’s not sure if it’s not just him enjoying being close to Bucky, or if he just likes the idea of being a caregiver. Maybe both.

He sighed, he just wanted Bucky to start feeling better. He also wanted more nights like the (end) of tonight.

Steve thought that maybe he should ask Bucky about little space again, but he knewBucky wasn’t ready for diapers. Bucky would probably get upset if Steve asked him about diapers and never talk to Steve out of embarrassment again or something.

Steve closed his computer, deciding to go to sleep and hope that Bucky would wake up tomorrow and come out to the kitchen again. Steve knew that two good days in a row would probably be a long shot, but he could only hope.

It took him a while to fall asleep, he hoped Bucky slept easier than him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment i like reading them


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